Full text of "The pilgrim's progress : from this world to that which is to come, delivered under the similtude of a dream"

See other formats

THE

ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL DRAW! N ; rS

BTf

HAROLD COFFIN O

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

THE

"PILGRIM'S PROGRESS"
SERIES

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By JOHN BUNYAN.
With Coloured Illustrations by HAROLD COPPING.

GRACE ABOUNDING. By JOHN BUNYAN.

With Coloured Illustrations by HAROLD COPPING.

THE PEEP OF DAY. By the Author of" Line Upon Line."
With Coloured Illustrations by W. J. MORGAN and W. S. STAGEY.

THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER.

By LEGH RICHMOND, M.A.
With Coloured Illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R.I.

LINE UPON LINE. Part I.

By the Author of " The Peep of Day."
With Coloured Illustrations by W. J. MORGAN.

LINE UPON LINE. Part II.

By the Author of " The Peep of Day."
With Coloured Illustrations by W. J. MORGAN.

THE CHILDREN ON THE KING'S HIGHWAY.

By the Rev. CHARLES BROWN, D.D-
With Coloured Frontispiece by HAROLD COPPING.

THE OLDEST CITY IN THE WORLD.

By the Rev. CHARLES BROWN, D.D.
With Coloured Illustrations by ARTHUR DIXON.

THE KING'S CUP-BEARER. By Mrs O. F. WALTON.

With Coloured Frontispiece by HAROLD COPPING
and other illustrations.

The R.T.S., 4 Bouverie Street, London, E.C-4

Of all Booksellers

Made in Great Britain
Printed by Turnbidl & Spears, Edinburgh

EVANGELIST POINTS THE WAY
*Do you see yonder shining light?'

[see p. 19.

PILGRIM'S PRO-

GRESS FROM THIS WORLD
TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME
DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE
OF A DREAM BY JOHN BUNYAN

WITH THIRTY-ONE FULL-PAGE ILLUS-
TRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS

BY HAROLD COPPING

I have used similitudes.' — HOSEA xii. 10

London
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard

PREFACE

IN the year 1826 the Religious Tract Society issued
an edition of the Pilgrints Progress, in which special
attention was paid to revision of the text, and great pains
were taken to restore this as nearly as possible to the text
which had received Bunyan's own latest corrections and
additions. It is well known that in the second and third
editions Bunyan made large additions to the allegory and
many important corrections. For example, Worldly
Wiseman first makes his appearance in the second edition,
published in 1678, the year already made famous by the
publication of the first edition. In the third edition,
issued in 1679, Bunyan added the characteristic portrait of
Mr By-ends. In all, during Bunyan's life-time, eleven
editions of the great book were published, the last
appearing in 1688, the year of his death.

The Religious Tract Society's edition of 1826 contained
in a prefatory note these words : * Great pains have been
taken in collating this edition with other copies, in order
to render a correct reprint of the original work. The
original side-notes, which often throw much light on the
text, have been preserved. A very few expressions that
from lapse of time have become obsolete or offensive have
been altered or omitted.'

This statement is confirmed by study of the text. For
many years this edition, which the Society has circulated
by tens of thousands, has been far the best accessible in
cheap form to English readers. But the editorial state-
ment just quoted is open to two criticisms. It does not
state to what editions the words 'other copies' refer,

PREFACE

and it is open to serious question whether 'obsolete*
terms ought to be 'altered* or 'omitted* in a great
Christian classic.

The edition now presented to readers of every class
contains the text of the Pilgrim's Progress as it stood
when Bunyan's death removed all possibility of further
authoritative revision. The proofs were carefully com-
pared with copies of the first, second, third, and eleventh
editions of Part I. in the library of the British Museum.
The eleventh, which is one of the rarest in the whole
series, appeared in the year when Bunyan died. It doubtless
contains his latest corrections. It was also much more fully
illustrated than any previous issue. The quatrains under
the engravings on internal evidence are undoubtedly
from the pen of the great dreamer. There are often
important differences between the text of the third
and of the eleventh editions. In all these cases the text
printed here is that of the eleventh.

In the original editions Scripture references were printed
in the margin. But these are often inaccurate. In later
days these have been much revised, altered, and enlarged.
No attempt has been made in this edition to reproduce
these references.

The second part has for this reprint been carefully
collated with the second edition, published in 1686. This
was the last edition of that part issued in Bunyan's life-time
— since the third edition was published in 1690 — and
doubtless contains his own latest corrections.

The present issue, therefore, may confidently claim to
be as accurate as the very best editions in point of text,
if, indeed, it be not superior to any yet printed.

It also contains an entirely new set of beautiful illus-
trations, specially prepared for it by Mr Harold Copping.

MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN

JOHN BUNYAN, the son of a travelling brazier or tinker,
was born at Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628, at a period
when wickedness prevailed through the land. His
education was such as poor people could in those days
give to their children. He was sent to school and
taught to read and write; but he was an idle boy, and
for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming, had few
equals of his own age. In his earlier days, terror seemed
to be the only restraining influence of which he felt
the power. In the day-time he often had gloomy fore-
bodings of the wrath to come ; and at night he was scared
with dreams. His imagination conceived apparitions of
evil spirits seeking to drag him away after them ; or he
would fancy that the last day was come, with all its
terrible realities.

Such were his youthful fears. As he grew older,
he became more hardened : and the remarkable provi-
dential interpositions of which he was the subject neither
startled nor melted him. Twice he narrowly escaped
drowning ; and during the Civil War was drawn as a
soldier to go to the siege of Leicester. A comrade,
who had sought and obtained leave to go in his room,
when standing sentry, was shot through the head and
died.

His marriage had some slight influence on his future
life. The young woman was very poor, and her only

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

portion consisted of two volumes which her father, a
godly man, had given to her — The Plain Man's Pathway
to Heaven, and The Practice of Piety. Mrs Bunyan
would often read these books with her husband, and
would relate what a holy life her father led. As a
consequence an earnest desire for reformation seized
upon him ; but it was only external. His heart was
unchanged, and he continued in a sinful course of
life.

Hearing, however, a sermon on the sin of Sabbath-
breaking, it much affected him. As was his custom,
he was engaged in the afternoon at a pastime, when
thoughts of a coming judgment crowded in upon his
awakened mind. He became terrified, and imagined he
heard a voice from heaven saying, * Wilt thou leave thy
sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to
hell ? ' The conviction that he had been a grievous
transgressor flashed across his mind, but he concluded
that it was too late for him to look for pardon or
for heaven, and he returned desperately to his sports
again.

After some time had passed, he fell into the company of
a poor Christian man, whose pious conversation about
religion and the Scriptures so touched Bunyan's heart
that he began to read the Bible. There were many
things in that book which alarmed him, and he commenced
an outward reformation in word and life, but entirely in
his own strength, and ignorant of the love and grace of
Christ Jesus. The conversation of three pious women,
sitting at a door in the streets of Bedford, one day
attracted his notice. He drew near, and as they spoke of
the things of God, of His work in their hearts, and of the
peace of reconciliation, he saw there was something in real

BRIEF NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR

religion which he had not yet known or felt. Their words
were never forgotten, and from that time he forsook the
company of the profane, and sought the society of those
who had at least a reputation for piety.

Bunyan had now set out fairly on his way from the
City of Destruction; but he fell into many dangers and
errors, and there is scarcely a fear which can assail an
inquiring spirit which did not at some period disturb
his mind. For a long time, he was like his own man in
the cage, at Interpreter's house, shut out from the pro-
mises and looking forward to certain judgment. His
conflict, too, with the Evil One was such as to remind
us of the struggle between Christian and Apollyon.
There came now, however, as he beautifully expresses it
in his Pilgrim, a hand with some of the leaves of the
tree of life, which Christian took and applied to some of
the wounds he had received in the battle, and was healed
immediately. He was led by faith to the cross of Christ,
and became more than conqueror through Him that loved
him. Shortly after this time, he made an open profession
of religion, and then began to make known to others the
Saviour whom he had found.

The now enlightened Christian man soon had to suffer
much on account of his religion. Between the years 1655
and 1660 he often preached in the neighbourhood of Bed-
ford. In the latter year he was arrested and put into the
Bedford County Gaol, where, for twelve years, with but
one brief interval of a few weeks, he was kept a prisoner.
It is frequently asserted that Bunyan wrote the Pilgrim's
Progress during this imprisonment. But Dr Brown has
shown conclusively that it was during a later and briefer
imprisonment in the old town jail on Bedford Bridge in
the year 1676 that the first part of the immortal master-

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

piece1 was written. It was first published in the early
months of the year 1678. The second part was not
published until 1685.

This book, which is equally a favourite in the nursery
and in the study, has received the commendation of men
of the highest order of intellect. It has been translated
into numerous languages, some of which were un-
known to Europe in the days in which Bunyan lived.
Missionaries have carried with them this book to almost
every part of the earth; and now the Pilgrim tells his
tale to the Chinese in the East, to the negroes in the
West, to the Greenlanders in the North, and the islanders
of the Pacific in the South. The Religious Tract Society
has aided, up to the present year (1928), in printing editions
of this work in one hundred and twenty languages.

Bunyan was the author of another allegory, The Holy
War, published in 1682, which is second only in merit
to the Pilgrim's Progress. In his own inimitable way he
has also told the story of his life and religious ex-
perience in Grace Abounding, a classic worthy to stand by
Augustine's Confessions and Luther's Table Talk. Besides
these great works he wrote many valuable treatises,
some of which are still read with pleasure and profit.

In prison Bunyan learned the art of making long-
tagged thread laces, and thus contributed to the support
of his family. After his release he lived a useful life
as minister of Bunyan Meeting in Bedford, and as a
preacher and writer. He died August 31, 1688, at Mr
Strudwick's, a grocer, at the sign of the ' Star,' on Snow
Hill, and was buried in Bunhill Fields. A Window to
his memory was unveiled in Westminster Abbey on
January 25, 1912.

1See John Bunyan: His Life, Times and Work, by John Brown (1885),
chapter xi.

THE

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook
To make another ; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware I this begun.

And thus it was : I writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down :
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode ; I only thought to make
I knew not what : nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbour : no, not I •,
I did it mine own self to gratify.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble : nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this,
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss.

Thus I set pen to paper with delight,

And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.

For having now my method by the end,

Still as I pull'd, it came ; and so I penn'd

It down : until it came at last to be,

For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together,
I show'd them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them, or them justify :
And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them die.
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so ;
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me :
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will ; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run :
To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify ;
I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.
For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth :
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone :
Yea, that I might rhem better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate :

May I not write in such a style as this ?
In such a method too, and yet not miss
My end — thy good ? Why may it not be done ?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ;
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that ; they suit
Her well when hungry ; but if she be full
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make !
Behold how he engageth all his wits ;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets ;
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine :
They must be grop'd for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whatever you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means ! all which one cannot name :
His gun, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell :
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this ;
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

And may be found too in an oyster-shell ;
If things that promise nothing do contain
What better is than gold ; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it ? Now my little book,
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take,)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell.

' Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.'

Why, what's the matter ? < It is dark.' What

though ?

' But it is feigned.' What of that ? I trow
Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.

* But they want solidness.' Speak, man, thy mind.

* They drowned the weak ; metaphors make us blind.'

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men :
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws,
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors ? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom ! No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

Be not too forward therefore to conclude
That I want solidness — that I am rude :
All things solid in show not solid be ;
All things in parable despise not we,
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth : yea, whoso considers
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that Holy Writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things,
Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, Truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit ; the memory too it doth fill
With what doth our imagination please ;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables ; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more. O man of God !
Art thou offended ? Doth thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress ?
Or that I had in things been more express ?
Three things let me propound ; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse

Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application ; but all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.
Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave,
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so : indeed if they abuse

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use

To that intent ; but yet let Truth be free

To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God : for who knows how,

Better than He that taught us first to plough,

To guide our mind and pens for His design ?

And He makes base things usher in divine.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

3. I find that Holy Writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another :
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book ; and then
Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand,

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize :
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ;
What he leaves undone ; also what he does :
It also shows you how he runs and runs
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who sets out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would attain :
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand :
Yea, it will make the slothful active be ;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable ?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable ?
Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember
From New-year's day to the last of December ?
Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs,
And may be to the helpless, comforters.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

This book is writ in such a dialect,
As may the minds of listless men affect :
Its seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ?
Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ?

Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,

And find thyself again without a charm ?

Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,

And yet know whether thou art blest or not.

By reading the same lines ? O then come hither,

And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

JOHN BUNYAN,

CHRISTIAN WALKING IN THE FIELD
4 He was (as he was wont) reading in his book/

[see p. 18.

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I
lighted on a certain place where was a Thejail
den, and laid me down in that place to
sleep ; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed,
and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in
a certain place, with his face from his own house, a
book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back.
I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein ;
and as he read, he wept and trembled ; and not being
able longer to contain, he brake out with ms Q^
a lamentable cry, saying, What shall
I do?

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained
himself as long as he could, that his wife and children
should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be
silent long, because that his trouble increased. Where-
fore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children ;
and thus he began to talk to them. O my dear wife, said
he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend,
am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard
upon me ; moreover, I am for certain in-

• 11. • MI L i- j This world

formed that this our city will be burned
with fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow,
both myself, with thee my wife, and you He knows no way
my sweet babes, shall miserably come to of escape as yet
ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of

17 9

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered.
At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that
they believed that what he had said to them was
true, but because they thought that some phrensy
distemper had got into his head ; therefore, it drawing
tov/ards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle
his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But
the night was as troublesome to him as the day ;
wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs
and tears. So when the morning was come, they
would know how he did. He told them, Worse
and worse : he also set to talking to them again ; but
they began to be hardened. They also thought to
Carnal phvsic for drive away his distemper by harsh and
a sick soul surly carriages to him : sometimes they

would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some-
times they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began
to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity
them, and also to condole his own misery; he would
also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and
sometimes praying: and thus for some days he spent
his time.

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in
the fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading in
his book, and greatly distressed in his mind ; and as
he read, he burst out as he had done before, crying,
What shall I do to be saved ?

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as
if he would run ; yet he stood still, because (as I per-
ceived) he could not tell which way to go. I looked
then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him,
and asked, Wherefore dost thou cry ?

He answered, Sir, I perceive, by the book in my
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to
come to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing
to do the first, nor able to do the second.

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since
this life is attended with so many evils ? The man

EVANGELIST DIRECTS HIM

answered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon
my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall
fall into Tophet. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to
prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence
to execution ; and the thoughts of these things make
me cry.

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why
standest thou still ? He answered, Because conviction of the
I know not whither to go. Then he gave necessity of flying
him a parchment roll, and there was written within, Fly
from the wrath to come.

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evangelist
very carefully, said, Whither must I fly ? Then said
Evangelist pointing with his finger over a .very wide
field, Do you see yonder Wicket-gate ? The man said,
No. Then said the other, Do you see
yonder shining light ? He said, I think gfS^JSSb?
I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that found without the
light in your eye, and go up directly
thereto, so shah thou see the gatejj at which, when
thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt
do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to
run. Now he had not run far from his own door,
but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry
after him to return \ but the man put his fingers in
his ears, and ran on, crying, Life ! life ! eternal life !
So he looked not behind him, but fled towards the middle
of the plain.

The neighbours also came out to see him run ; and as
he ran some mocked, others threatened,
and some cried after him to return ; and Sewrtath*to7come
among those that did so, there were two {o^fe^jjj{f "stock
that were resolved to fetch him back by ,<,\ _-.. .. :
force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name
of the other Pliable. Now by this time obstinate and
the man was got a good distance from Pliable foUow him
them; but however they were resolved to pursue him,
which they did, land in a little time they overtook him.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are you come ?
They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he
said, That can by no means be : you dwell, said he, in the
City of Destruction, the place also where I was born : I
see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later you will
sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with
fire and brimstone : be content, good neighbours, and go
along with me.

Obst. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and
our comforts behind us !

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name),
because that all which you shall forsake is not worthy
to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ;
and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall
fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to
spare. Come away, and prove my words.

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave
all the world to find them ?

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled,
and that fadeth not away ; and it is laid up in heaven, and
safe there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them
that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my
book.

Obst. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book;
will you go back with us or no ?

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my
hand to the plough.

Obst. Come then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn
again, and go home without him : there is a company of
these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy
by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men
that can render a reason.

PH. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what the good
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better
than ours : my heart inclines to go with my neighbour.

Obst. What ! more fools still ! Be ruled by me, and
go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow
will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise.

OBSTINATE GOES BACK

Chr. Come with thy neighbour, Pliable ; there are
such things to be had which I spoke chrlstian and ob.
of, and many more glories besides. It stinate pull for
you believe not me, read here in this
book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein,
behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that
made it.

Pli. Well, neighbour Obstinate, saith Pliable, I begin
to come to a point ; I intend to go along paMf contented
with this good man, and to cast in my lot to go with Chris-
with him: but, my good companion, do tian
you know the way to this desired place ?

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan-
gelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where
we shall receive instruction about the way.^^—-

Pli. Come then, good neighbour, let us be going.
Then they went both together.

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate :
I will be no companion of such misled, obstinate goes
fantastical fellows. railine back

Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was
gone back, Christian and Pliable went

... , , , , Talk between

talking over the plain ; and thus they be- Christian and
gan their discourse.

Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do ? I
am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had
even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the
powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not
thus lightly have given us the back.

Pli. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none
but us two here, tell me now further, what the things are,
and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going.

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind
than speak of them with my tongue : but God.s thinffs ^
yet, since you are desirous to know, I will speakabie
read of them in my book.

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book
are certainly true ?

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that
cannot lie.

Pli. Well said ; what things are they ?

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited,
and everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit
that kingdom for ever.

Pli. Well said ; and what else ?

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us ; and
garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firma-
ment of heaven.

Pli. This is excellent ; and what else ?

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow : for
He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our
eyes.

Pli. And what company shall we have there ?

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cheru-
bims ; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on
them. There also you shall meet with thousands and
ten thousands that have gone before us to that place ;
none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy ;
every one walking in the sight of God, and standing
in His presence with acceptance for ever. In a word,
there we shall see the elders with their golden
crowns ; there we shall see the holy virgins with their
golden harps ; there we shall see men, that by the
world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of
beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bare
to the Lord of the place; all well, and clothed with
immortality as with a garment.

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's
heart. But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall
we get to be sharers hereof?

Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath
recorded that in this book ; the substance of which is,
If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon
us freely.

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of
these things : come on, let us mend our pace.

THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this
burden that is on my back.

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had
ended this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough,
that was in the midst of the plain ; and they being
heedless, did both fall suddenly into the Thesioughof
bog. The name of the slough was Despond
Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time,
being grievously bedaubed with dirt ; and Christian,
because of the burden that was on his back, began to
sink in the mire.

PH. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbour Christian,
where are you now ?

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.

PH. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily
said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me
all this while of ? If we have such ill speed at our first
setting out, what may we expect 'twixt this and our
journey's end ? May I get out again with u is not enough
my life, you shall possess the brave tobe Pliable
country alone for me. And with that he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire
on that side of the slough which was next to his own
house : so away he went, and Christian saw him no
more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough
of Despond alone : but still he endea-
voured to struggle to that side of the SoXfe? sedcs stai
slough that was further from his own to/o^£^{r°m
house, and next to the Wicket-gate ; the
which he did, but could not get out because of the burden
that was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that a
man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him,
What he did there ?

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a
man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder
gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. And as I
was going thither, I fell in here.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Help. But why did not you look for the steps ?

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that

The promises j fled ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ .^

Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand : so he gave
I him his hand, and he drew him out, and

set him upon sound ground, and bid him
go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said,
Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the
City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is
not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with
more security ? And he said unto me, This miry slough
What makes the '1S suc^ a place as cannot be mended : it is
siough of Despond the descent whither the scum and filth
that attends conviction for sin doth continuadfysrun, and
therefore it was called the Slough of Despona* for still as
the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise
in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging appre-
hensigns, which all of them get together, and settle in this
place^And this is the reason of the badness of this ground.
It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should
remain so bad. His labourers also have, by the directions
of his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen
hundreds years employed about this patch of ground, if
perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and to my know-
ledge, said he, here hath been swallowed up at least twenty
thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions,
that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the
King's dominions (and they that can tell, say, they are the
best materials to make good ground of the place), if so be it
might have been mended ; but it is the Slough of Despond
still, and so will be when they have done what they can.
True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver,

certain good and substantial steps, placed
for|i?en?sseasndf even through the very midst of this

slough; but at such time as this place

doth much spew out its filth, as it doth
against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen;

THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND

*So he gave him his handt and he drew him out, and set him
upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way/

[see p. 24.

PLIABLE GETS HOME

or if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads,
step besides, and then they are bemired to purpose, not-
withstanding the steps be there ; but the ground is good
when they are once got in at the gate.

Now I saw in my dream, that by this piiabie is got
time Pliable was got home to his house. h?'"e',lnd.i?

. . . , . , visited by his

So his neighbours came to visit him ; and neighbours. His
some of them called him wise man for thematEeturn
coming back, and some called him fool for
hazarding himself with Christian : others again did mock
at his cowardliness ; saying, Surely, since you began
to venture, I would not have been so base to have
given out for a few difficulties : so Pliable sat sneaking
among them. But at last he got more confidence, and
then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor
Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning
Pliable.

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he
espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet
him ; and their hap was to meet just as

r . r , J . Worldly Wise-

they were crossing the way of each other, man meets with
The gentleman's name that met him was Christian
Mr Worldly Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal
Policy, a very great town, and also hard-by from whence
Christian came. This man then, meeting with Christian,
and having some inkling of him (for Christian's setting
forth from the City of Destruction was much noised
abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also
it began to be the town talk in some other places), — Mr
Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him,
by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs
and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some
talk with Christian.

World. How now, good fellow, Talkb
whither away after this burdened manner ? Woridfy Wiseman

Chr. A burdened manner, indeed, as andchris«an
ever I think poor creature had ! And whereas you ask
me, Whither away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Wicket-gate before me ; for there, as I am informed,
I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden.

World. Hast thou a wife and children ?

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that
I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : methinks
I am as if I had none.

World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee
counsel ?

Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good
counsel.

World. I would advise thee then, that thou with all

worldly Wise- sPced ?et thyself rid of llJ7 burden ; for

man's counsel thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till

then : nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of

the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee, till then.

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of
this heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot ; nor
is there any man in our country that can take it off my
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you,
that I may be rid of my burden.

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy
burden ?

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great
and honourable person : his name, as I remember, is
Evangelist.

World. I beshrew him for his counsel ! there is not
a more dangerous and troublesome way in
the world than is that unto which he hath
Evangelist's directed thee ; and that thou shalt find, if

thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou
hast met with something, as I perceive, already ; for I see
the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend
those that go on in that way. Hear me ; I am older than
thou : thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, naked-
ness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word,
death, and what not. These things are certainly true,

WORLDLY WISEMAN

having been confirmed by many testimonies. And should
a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed
to a stranger ?

Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more
terrible to me than all these things which you have
mentioned : nay, methinks I care not what

...-'' .r T The frame of the

I meet with in the way, if so be I can also heart of a young
meet with deliverance from my burden.

World. How earnest thou by thy burden at first ?

Chr. By reading this book in my hand.

World. I thought so ; and it is happened unto thee
as to other weak men, who, meddling with Worldly Wiseman
things too high for them, do suddenly fall does not like that

°, t . ° . i-ii. • j men should be

into thy distractions ; which distractions do serious in reading
not only unman men, as thine I perceive the
have done thee, but they run them upon desperate ventures
to obtain they know not what.

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from my
heavy burden.

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way,
seeing so many dangers attend it ? especially since (hadst
thou but patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the
obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that
thou in this way wilt run thyself into ? Yea, and the
remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friend-
ship, and content.

Chr. Sir, I pray open this secret to me.

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named
Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is
Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very
good name, that has skill to help men off Whether Mr
with such burdens as thine are from ^ff^^mS^i^
their shoulders ; yea, to my knowledge, KforeSthe°straJ
he hath done a great deal of good this *at*
way ; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that
are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens.
To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

presently. His house is not quite a mile from this
place ; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath
a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility,
that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman
himself: there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy
burden ; and if thou art not minded to go back to thy
former habitation, as indeed I would not wish thee,
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to
this village, where there are houses now standing empty,
one of which thou mayest have at reasonable rates j
provision is there also cheap and -good; and that which
will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there
thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good
fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently
_, . .. he concluded, If this be true which this

Christian snared , .

bv Mr Worldly gentleman hath said, my wisest course is
to take his advice •, and with that he thus
further spoke.

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ?

Mount Sinai World. Do you see yonder high hill ?
Chr. Yes, very well.

World. By that hill you must go, and the first house
you come at is his.

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr Legality's
house for help ; but behold, when he was
t^/tMoSnfslnai got now hard by the hill, it seemed so
ITeadd faU °n his hign» and also that side of it that was next
the way-side did hang so much over, that
Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should
fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, and
wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed
heavier to him than while he was in his way. There
came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made
Christian afraid that he should be burned : here there-
fore he sweat, and did quake for fear. And now
he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr Worldly
Wiseman's counsel j and with that he saw Evangelist

CHRISTIAN AT MOUNT SINAI

coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began
to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew Evan?elist findeth
nearer and nearer: and coming up to him, Christian under

ii,, L • • i jj j Mount Sinai, and

he looked upon him with a severe and dread- looketh severely
ful countenance, and thus began to reason upon him
with Christian.

Evan. What dost thou here, Christian ? said he : at
which words Christian knew not what to _ ...

. - . . Jivangelist

answer; wherefore at present he stood reasons afresh
speechless before him. Then said Evan-
gelist further, Art not thou the man that I found crying
without the walls of the City of Destruction ?

[Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little
Wicket-gate ?

Chr. Yes, dear sir, said Christian.] 1

Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned
aside ? For thou art now out of the way.

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over
the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me thatlmight,in the
village before me, find a man that could take off my burden.

Evan. What was he ?

Chr. He looked liked a gentleman, and talked much to
me, and got me at last to yield : so I came hither ; but
when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I
suddenly made a stand ; lest it should fall on my head.

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ?

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and I
told him.

Evan. And what said he then ?

Chr. He asked me if I had a family : and I told him.
But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that is on my
back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.

Evan. And what said he then ?

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ;
and I told him 'twas ease that I sought : And, said I, I

1 The words in [ ] are in the third edition, but not in the eleventh.
This fact, and also internal evidence, would favour their omission.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So
he said that he would show me a better way, and
short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir,
that you set me ; which way, said he, will direct you to a
gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens :
so I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if
haply 1 might be soon eased of my burden. But when I came
to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped, for
fear (as I said) of danger : but I now know not what to do.
Evan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I
„ „ . may show thee the words of God. So he

iivangrelist • _ __, .

convinces Chris- stood trembling. Then said Evangelist,
See that ye refuse not Him that speaketh :
for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on
earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away
from Him that speaketh from heaveni He said, moreover,
Now the just shall live by faith ; but if any man draw back,
My soul shall have no pleasure in him. He also did thus
apply them ; Thou art the man that art running into this
misery ; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most
High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace,
even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition.

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, Woe
is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which Evangelist
caught him by the right hand, saying, All manner of sin and
blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men. Be not faithless,
but believing. Then did Christian again a little revive,
and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest
heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now
show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was
also to whom he sent thee. The man that met thee is one
Mr worldly Wise- Worldl7 Wiseman ; and rightly is he so
man described by called; partly because he favoureth only
the doctrine of this world (therefore he
always goes to the town of Morality to church) •, and partly
because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best

WORLDLY WISEMAN DESCRIBED

from the cross : and because he is of this carnal temper,
therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, Evangelist dis-
though right. Now there are three things 3VF$&g*
in this man's counsel that thou must Wiseman
utterly abhor.

1. His turning thee out of the way.

2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee.

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth
unto the administration of death.

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the
way ; yea, and thine own consenting thereto ; because
this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the
counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, Strive
to enter in at the strait gate ; the gate to which I send
thee ; for strait is the j^ate that leadeth unto life, and
few there be that find rtJ From this little Wicket-gate,
and from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned
thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction : hate,
therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor
thyself for hearkening to him.

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the
cross odious unto thee ; for thou art to prefer it before the
treasures of Egypt. Besides, the King of glory hath told
thee, that he that will save his life shall lose it. And he
that comes after Him, and hates not his father, and mother,
and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and
his own life also, he cannot be His disciple. I say, there-
fore, for man to labour to persuade thee that that shall be
thy death, without which, the truth hath said, thou canst
not have eternal life : this doctrine thou must abhor.

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the
way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for
this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also
how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden.

He to whom thou was sent for ease,
being by name Legality, is the son of the
bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with her
children ; and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now if she
with her children are in bondage, how canst thou
expect by them to be made free ? This Legality,
therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden.
No man was as yet ever rid of his burden to him ; no,
nor ever is like toy4}ej ye cannot be justified by the
works of the lawj£ for by the deeds f^the law no
man living can be rici of his burdSE^ [Therefore Mr
Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr Legality is a cheat ;
and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his^simpering
looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help theeA Believe
me, there is nothing in all this noise that thmTnast heard
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy
salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had
set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the
heavens for confirmation of what he had said ; and with
that there came words and fire out of the mountain under
which poor Christian stood, that made the hair of his
flesh stand up. The words were thus pronounced, As
many as are of the works of the law are under the curse ;
for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not
in all things which are written in the book of the law ta
do them.

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began
to cry out lamentably ; even cursing the time in which he
met with Mr Worldly Wiseman ; still calling himself a
thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also
was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's
arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the
prevalency with him as to cause him to forsake the
right way. This done, he applied himself again to
Evangelist in words and sense as follows.

Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope ? May

I now go back, and go up to the Wicket-gate? shall

. . . I not be abandoned for this, and sent back

Christian inquired r , , T * T .

if he may yet be from thence ashamed r 1 am sorry 1 nave
happy hearkened to this man's counsel : but may

my sins be forgiven ?

THE WICKET GATE

'So when Christian was stepping in the other gave
him a pull/

[see £.33.

CHRISTIAN AT THE GATE

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very
great, for by it thou hast committed two evils ; thou
hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden
paths. Yet will the man at the gate Evangelist com-
receive thee, for he has goodwill for forts him
men; only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside
again, lest thou perish from the way, when His wrath
is kindled but a little. Then did Christian address
himself to go back ; and Evangelist, after he had kissed
him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed; so
he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by
the way ; nor if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them
an answer. He went like one that was all the while
treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means
think himself safe, till again he was gof into the way
which he had left to follow Mr Worldly Wiseman's
counsel ; so in process of time Christian got up to the
gate. Now over the gate there was written, Knock,
and it shall be opened unto you.

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice,
saying,

May I now enter here ? Will he within
Open to sorry me, though I have been
An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high.

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named
Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he
came, and what he would have.

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from
the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that
I may be delivered from the wrath to come : I would
therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this gate is
the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in.

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he : and
with that he opened the gate. The ^ ^ fae

oo when Christian was stepping in, the opened to broken-
other gave him a pull. Then said Christian,
What means that ? The other told him, A little distance

33 c

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which
Beelzebub is the captain: from thence both he and they

Satan envies those that are witn nim s^OOt arrows at those

2?itnatrethe t^iat come UP to ^is gate, if haply they

may die before they can enter in. Then

the gatewithejoy said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So

and trembling wheQ he wag gQt in> the maQ Qf the gate

asked him who directed him thither.

Talk between Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither

Goodwin and and knock, as I did : and he said, that

you, sir, would tell me what I must do.

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man
can shut it.

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

Good. But how is it that you came alone ?

Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger,
as I saw mine.

Good. Did any of them know of your coming ?

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first,
and called after me to turn again : also some of my
neighbours stood crying and calling after me to return;
but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my
way.

Good. But did none of them follow you, to persuade
you to go back ?

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable : but when they
saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing
back, but Pliable came with me a little way.

Good. But why did he not come through ?

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came
at the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly
fell. And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and
A man may have would not venture farther. Wherefore
company when he getting out again on the side next to his

sets out for i i j T L u L

heaven, and yet own house, he told me 1 should possess the
go thither alone braye country aione for him: so he went

his way, and I came mine ; he after Obstinate, and I to
this gate.

TALK WITH GOODWILL

Good. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ! is the
celestial glory of so small esteem with him, that he
counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few
difficulties to obtain it?

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of
Pliable; and if I should also say all the chrlstian accnseth
truth or myself, it will appear there is no himself before the
betterment betwixt him and myself. 'Tis man at the gate
true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned
aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded
thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr Worldly
Wiseman.

Good. Oh ! did he light upon you ? What ! he
would have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr
Legality ! They are both of them a very cheat. But
did you take his counsel?

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out
Mr Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands
by his house would have fallen upon my head ; wherefore
there I was forced to stop.

Good. That mountain has been the death of many,
and will be the death of many more : 'tis well you escaped
being by it dashed in pieces.

Chr. Why truly I do not know what had become of
me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I
was musing in the midst of my dumps •, but 'twas God's
mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never
come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am,
more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favour is
this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here !

Good. We make no objections against any, not-
withstanding all that they have done before they come
hither: they in no wise are cast out.
And therefore, good Christian, come a foSagahi.^d
little way with me, and I will teach thee j£yCted yet °n hi*
about the way thou must go. Look before
thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? THAT is the way

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets,
Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can
make it : this is the way thou must go.

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings
Christian afraid ^OT windings, by which a stranger may

of losing his way |Qse ^is way?

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon
this ; and they are crooked and wide : but thus thou
mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right
only being strait and narrow.

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him
Christian weary further, if he could not help him off with
of his burden fas burden that was upon his back. For

as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any
means get it off without help.

There is node- He told him, As to thy burden, be

guntTndburldetne content to bear it, until thou comest to
dSandbfoodeof the P*ace °* deliverance ; for there it will
Christ fall from thy back of itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to
address himself to his journey. So the other told him,
that by that he was got some distance from the gate,
he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose
door he should knock, and he would show him excellent
things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and
he again bid him God-speed.

Then he went on till he came at the house of the
Christian comes to Interpreter, where he knocked over and
the house of the over. At last one came to the door, and
asked who was there.

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaint-
ance of the good man of this house to call here for my
profit ; I would therefore speak with the master of the house.
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little
time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would
have.

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come
from the City of Destruction, and am going to Mount

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

Zion •, and I was told by the man that stands at the gate
at the head of this way, that if I called here you would
show me excellent things, such as would be an help to me
on my journey.

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will
show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he
commanded his man to light the candle, He is entertained,
and bid Christian follow him ; so he had m«rin*tion
him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the
which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a
very grave person hang up against the Christian sees a
wall; and this was the fashion of it: it brave picture
had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of The fashion of
books in his hand, the law of truth was
written upon his lips, the world was behind its back ; it
stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did
hang over its head.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ?

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a
thousand. TRe^can beget children, travail in birth with
children, and nurse them himself when they are born.
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to
heaven, the best of books in his hand* The meaning of
and the law of truth writ on his lips ; the picture
£Ttf is to show thee, that his work is to know, and unfold
dark things to sinners ; even as also thou seest him
stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou
seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown
hangs over his head; that is to show thee, that slight-
ing and despising the things that are present, for the love
that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the
world that comes next to have glory for his reward.
Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed why he showed
thee this picture first, because the man him the picture
whose picture this is, is the only man
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath
authorized to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou
mayest meet with in the way : wherefore take good heed

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind
what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with
some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes
down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very
large parlour that was full of dust because never swept ;
the which after he had reviewed a little while, the
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he
began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about,
that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring
hither the water, and sprinkle the room ; the which when
she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ?

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the
heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace
of the gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward
corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He that
began to sweep at first, is the Law ; but she that brought
water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now whereas
thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the
dust did so fly about, that the room by him could not be
cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith;
this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing
the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put
strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it
doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power
to subdue. |

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room
with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure;
this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes in the
sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart,
then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the
dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin
vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean,
through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the
King of glory to inhabit. X

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat
two little children, each one in his chair. „

- , ' . . . He showed him

The name of the eldest was Passion, and Passion and
the name of the other Patience. Passion Patience
seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very
quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason of the
discontent of Passion? The Interpreter passion will hav8
answered, The governor of them would itnow
have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the
next year ; but he will have all now ; but patience is for
Patience is willing to wait. waiting

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him
a bag of treasure and poured it down at Passion hafch Ws
his feet : the which he took up and rejoiced desire, and quickly
therein, and withal laughed Patience to llaway

scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all
away, and had nothing left him but ragsl?

Chr. Then said Christian to the Inter- The matter ex-
preter, Expound this matter more fully pounded
to me.

Inter. So he said, These two lads are figures ; Passion
of the men of this world, and Patience of the men of that
which is to come : for as here thou seest, Passion will have
all now, this year, that is to say, in this world ; so are the
men of this world ; they must have all their good things
now ; they cannot stay till next year, that is, until the
next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, A
bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, _,

P i . . i i i *• ne worldly man

is or more authority with them, than are for a bird in the
all the Divine testimonies of the good of the hand
world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly
lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but
rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world.
Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience
has the best wisdom, and that upon many patience had the
accounts. I. Because he stays for the best best wisdom
things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of
his, when the other had nothing but rags.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of
the next world will never wear out ; but these are suddenly
gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh
Thin sthat are at Patience> because he had his good things
first must give first, as Patience will have to laugh at

thatea're?astar|S Passion, because he had his best things
lasting jast . for £rst must gjve pjace to iastj be-

cause last must have his time to come ; but last gives place
to nothing ; for there is not another to succeed ; he there-
fore that hath his portion first, must needs have a time to
Dives had his spend it ; but he that hath his portion last,

good things first must have it lastingly ; therefore it is said
of Dives, In thy life-time thou receivedst thy good things,
and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted,
and thou art tormented. 2>

Chr. Then I perceive 'tis not best to covet things
that are now, but to wait for things to come.

Inter. You say truth : for the things that are seen
The first things are temporal, but the things that are not
are but temporal seen are eternal. *4 But though this be
so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are
such near neighbours one to another ; and again, because
things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one
to another; therefore it is, that the first of these so
suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continually
between the second.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took
Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where
was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing
by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it j
yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this ?

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of
grace that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts water
upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil : but in
that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and
hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had
him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a

THE MAN IN THE IRON CAGE

Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in
tne iron cage of despair ? '

[see p. 43.

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did
also continually cast (but secretly) into the fire.

Then said Christian, What means this ?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who con-
tinually, with the oil of His grace, maintains the work
already begun in the heart ; by the means of which, not-
withstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His
people prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest,
that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the
fire ; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the
tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in
the soul. \

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the
hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded
a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the sight of which
Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the
top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all
in gold.

Then said Christian, May we go in thither ?

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward
the door of the palace j and behold, at the door stood a
great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not.
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at
a table-side, with a book and his ink-horn before him, to
take the name of him that should enter therein ; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armour to
keep it, being resolved to do to the men that would enter
what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started
back for fear of the armed men, Christian

c The valiant man

saw a man or a very stout countenance
come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, Set
down my name, sir; the which when he had done, he
saw the man draw his sword, and put an helmet upon his
head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who
laid upon him with deadly force ; but the man, not at
all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely.
So after he had received and given many wounds to those

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through
them all, and pressed forward into the palace ; at which
there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were
within, even of those that walked upon the top of the
palace, saying,

Come in, come in ;

Eternal glory thou shalt win.

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I
know the meaning of this.

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said
the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little more, and
after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by
Despair like an tne hand again, and led him into a very
iron cage <jark room, where there sat a man in an

iron cage.

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat
with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his
heart. Then said Christian, What means this ? At
which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

Chr. Then said Christian to the man, What art thou ?
The man answered, I am what I was not once.

Chr. What wast thou once ?

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing
professor, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes
of others : I once was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial
City, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should
get thither. ^

Chr. Well, but what art thou now ?

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up
in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh now I
cannot !

Chr. But how earnest thou into this condition ?

Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I laid the
reins upon the neck of my lusts ; I sinned against the
light of the word, and the goodness of God; I have

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

grieved the Spirit, and He is gone ; I tempted the devil,
and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger,
and He has left me ; I have so hardened my heart, that I
cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there
no hope for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the
Interpreter.

Chr. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you
must be kept in the iron cage of despair ?

Man. No, none at all.

Chr. Why ? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh. I
have despised His person. I have despised His
righteousness ; I have counted His blood an unholy
thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of grace ;
therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises,
and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings,
dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of certain
judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me
as an adversary.

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this
condition ?

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this
world ; in the enjoyments of which I did then promise
myself much delight : but now every one of those things
also bite me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn ?

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His word
gives me no encouragement to believe ; yea, Himself hath
shut me up in this iron cage : nor can all the men in the
world let me out. Oh, eternity ! eternity ! how shall I
grapple with the misery that I must meet with in
eternity !

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this
man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting
caution to thee.

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help
me to watch and be sober, and to pray, that I may shun

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me
to go on my way now ?

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more,
and then thou shalt go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him
into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed ;
and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled.

Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ?

The Interpreter theo^bid him tell to Christian the
reason of his so doing.../

So he began, and said, This night, as I was in my
sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceed-
ing black: also it thundered and lightened in most
fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked
up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack, at an unusual
rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet,
and saw also a> man sitting upon a cloud, attended with
the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ;
also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard
then a voice, saying, Arise, ye dead, and come to
judgment.

And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened,
and the dead that were therein came forth:! some of
them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and
some sought to hide themselves under the mountains^
Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud, open the
book and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by
reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came from
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them,
as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. ^

I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on
the man that sat on the cloud, Gather together the
tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the
burning lake. And with that the bottomless pit opened,
just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which there
came, in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire,
with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons,
Gather My wheat into the garner. \C And with that J

CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN

' Now as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones
came to him/

[see p. 46.

CHRISTIAN AT THE CROSS

saw many catched up and carried away in the clouds ;
but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself,
but I could not ; for the man that sat upon the cloud
still kept his eye upon me : my sins also came into
my mind ; and my conscience did accuse me on every
side4«j3Upon this I awake from my sleep.

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this
sight ?

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was
come, and that I was not ready for it : but this frighted
me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me
behind : also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where
I stood. My conscience too afflicted me ; and, as I
thought, the Judge had always His eye upon me, showing
indignation in His countenance.

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou
considered all these things ?

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they
may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the
way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his
loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said
the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good
Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city.

So Christian went on his way, saying,

Here have I seen things rare and profitable,
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable
In what I have begun to take in hand :
Then let me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which
Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a
wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Up this
way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not
without great difficulty, because of the load on his
back.

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending ;
45

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the
bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as
Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from
off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to
tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth
of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with

When God re- a men7 heart» He hath given me rest

l6^lt and burde ^7 ^S SOrrOW» anc^ ^e ^7 ^is death.

we1arenasthosen' Then he stood still awhile to look and
that leap for joy wonder ; for it was very surprising to him
that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his
burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, even till
the springs that were in his head sent the waters down
his cheeks. Now as he stood looking and weeping,
behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted
him with Peace be to Thee. So the first said to
him, Thy sins be forgiven theej the second stripped
him of his rags, and clothed him with change of
raiment ; the third also set a mark in his forehead ;
and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he
bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give
it in at the celestial gate : so they went their way.
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on
singing,

Thut far I did come laden with my sin ;

Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,
A Christian can Till I came hither : what a place is this 1

sing, though Must here be the beginning of my bliss ?

fevehim Jh'e Must here the burden fall from off my back ?

joy of his heart Must here the strings that bound it to me crack f

.Blessed cross ! blessed sepulchre ! blessed rather be

The Man that there was put to shame for me!

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even
until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of
simple, Sloth, and the way, three men fast asleep, with
Presumption fetters upon their heels. The name of

the one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third
Presumption.

SLOTH AND PRESUMPTION

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to
them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried,
You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for
the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom :
awake, therefore, and come away; be willing also, and
I will help you off with your irons. He also told
them, If he that goeth about like a roaring lion
come by, you will certainly become a prey to his
teeth. With that they looked upon him, and began
to reply in this sort : Simple said, I see no
danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more
sleep ; and Presumption said, Every vat §£deyP*neth not
must stand upon his own bottom. And
so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on
his way.

Yet was he troubled to think, that men in that danger
should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely
offered to help them, both by awakening of them, coun-
selling of them, and proffering to help them off with their
irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied
two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of
the narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. The
name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other
Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who
thus entered with them into discourse.

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither

gO yOU ? Christian talked

Form, and Hyp. We were born in with them
the land of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount
Zion.

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth
at the beginning of the way ? Know you not that it is
written, that he that cometh not in by the door, but
climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber ?

Form, and Hyp. They said, that to go to the gate
for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far
about ; and that therefore their usual way was to make a

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had
done.

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the
Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate His
revealed will ?

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he
needed not trouble his head thereabout : for what they
did they had custom for, and could produce (if need were),
testimony that would witness it, for more than a thousand
years.

Chr. But, said Christian, will it stand a trial at
law?

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that custom,
They that come it being of so long a standing as. above a
!St0bththe%orUt thousand years, would doubtless now be
think that they* admitted as a thing legal by an impartial
fnvindTcSn'of1* judge : and besides, say they, if we get
their own practice into the way> wnat's matter which way
we get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the
way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we
are also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall :
wherein now is thy condition better than ours ? •

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master : you walk by
the rude working of your fancies. You are counted
thieves already by the Lord of the way ; therefore I
doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the
way. You come in by yourselves without His direction,
and shall go out by yourselves without His mercy.

To this they made him but little answer ; only they bid
him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on
every man in his way, without much conference one with
another ; save that these two men told Christian, that as
to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should
as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore, said they,
we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by
the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow,
given thee by some of thy neighbours, to hide the shame
of thy nakedness.

THE HILL DIFFICULTY

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved,
since you came not in by the door. And as for this
coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord
of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to
cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of
kindness to me; for I had nothing but christian has ?ot
raes before. And besides, thus I comfort his Lord's coat on

9 tt> T n i i • i T i T his back and is

myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I comforted there-
come to the gate of the city, the Lord with
thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat
on my back; a coat that He gave me He }s comf?rted
freelv in the day that He strict me of my also with his mark

J , , J . . J and his roll

rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my
forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice,
which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed
there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I
will tell to you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll
sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on the way ; I
was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of
my certain going in after it ; all which things I doubt you
want, and want them because you came not in at the gate.

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they
looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that
they went on all, save that Christian kept Christian has talk
before, who had no more talk but with with himself
himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes
comfortably : also he would be often reading in the roll
that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was
refreshed.

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to
the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the He comes to the
bottom of which was a spring. There hui Difficulty
were also in the same place two other ways, besides that
which came straight from the gate : one turned to the left
hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of the
hill ; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the
name of the going up the side of the hill is called Diffi-
culty. Christian went now to the spring, and drank

49 D

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go up the
hill, saying,

The hill, though high, I covet to ascend ;

The difficulty will not me offend;

For I perceive the way to life lies here:

Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear.

Better, though difficult, the fight way to go,

Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But
when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that
there were two other ways to go ; and supposing also that
these two ways might meet again with that up which
Christian went, on the other side of the hill ; therefore
they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name
of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the
The danger of ot^er Destruction. So the one took the
turning out of the way which is called Danger, which did
lead him into a great wood ; and the other
took directly up the way to Destruction, which Jed him
into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he
stumbled and fell, and rose no more.

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill,
where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from
going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because
of the steepness of the place. Now about
the mid-way to the top of the hill was
a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for
the refreshing of weary travellers. Thither, therefore,
Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him : then
he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his
comfort ; he also now began afresh to take a review of the
coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the
cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a
slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him
He that sleeps is in that place until it was almost night j
aloser and in his sleep his roll fell out of his

hand. Now as he was sleeping, there came one to
him, and awaked him, saying, < Go to the ant, thou

CHRISTIAN CLIMBING THE HILL DIFFICULTY

'He fell from running to going, and from going to clambering

upon his hands and his knees, because of the

steepness of the place/

[see p. 50.

CHRISTIAN MISSES HIS ROLL

sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.' And with
that Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his
way, and went apace till he came to the top of the
hill.

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came
two men running to meet him amain ; the name of the one
was Timorous, and the other Mistrust: Christian meets
to whom Christian said, Sirs, what s the with Mistrust and
matter? you run the wrong way. Timorous
answered, that they were going to the city of Zion, and
had got up that difficult place : but, said he, the farther
we go, the more danger we meet with ; wherefore we
turned, and are going back again.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lies a couple of
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know
not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but
they would presently pull us in pieces.

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but
whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mine own
country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I
shall certainly perish there; if I can go to the Celestial
City, I am sure to be in safety there : I must venture.
To go back is nothing but death : to go Christian shakes
forward is fear of death, and life ever- for fear
lasting beyond it : I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and
Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
way. But thinking again of what he heard from the men,
he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein,
and be comforted ; but he felt, and found
it not. Then was Christian in great dis-
tress, and knew not what to do; for he SSmfort to take
wanted that which used to relieve him, and
that which should have been his pass into the Celestial
City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and
knew not what to do. At last he be- He is perplexed
thought himself that he had slept in the for nis roil
arbour that is on the side of the hill ; and, falling down
upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

foolish fact,1 and then went back to look for his roll. But
all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth
the sorrow of Christian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed,
sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for
being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was
erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness.
Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this
side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he
might find the roll that had been his comfort so many times
in his journey. He went thus till he came again within
sight of the arbour where he sat and slept ; but that sight
Christian bewails renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing
his foolish sleeping again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping
unto his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on
bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that
I am, that I should sleep in the day-time ! that I should
sleep in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge
the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which
the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of
the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I took
in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel •, for their sin they
were sent back again by way of the Red Sea ; and I am
made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful
sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this
time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which
I needed not to have trod but once : yea, now also I am
like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh that
I had not slept !

Now by this time he was come to the arbour again,
where for a while he sat down and wept ;

Christian findeth . , ^, . . ... r. ?

his roil where he but at last (as Christian would have it)
looking sorrowfully down under the settle,
there he espied his roll, the which he, with trembling and
haste, catched up, and put into his bosom. But who
can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his
roll again ? For this roll was the assurance of his life,

1 Old sense of the word equivalent to modern words ' deed,' < act.'

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL

and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it
up :n his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye
to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook
himself again to his journey. But oh how nimbly did
he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet, before he got up, the
sun went down upon Christian ; and this made him again,
recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and
thus he again began to condole with himself: O thou
sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted
in my journey ! I must walk without the sun, darkness
must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise
of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep ! Now
also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous
told him, how they were frighted with the sight of the
lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts
range in the night for their prey, and if they should meet
with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? how should
I escape being by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on.
But while he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he
lifted up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately
palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and
it stood by the highway-side.

So I saw in my dream, that he made haste, and went
forward, that if possible he might get lodging there.
Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very
narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the
Porter's lodge : and looking very narrowly before him as
he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought
he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were
driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw
not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also
himself to go back after them ; for he thought nothing
out death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge,
whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made
a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying,
Is thy strength so small ? Fear not the lions, for
they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith
where it is, and for discovery of those that have none :

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come
unto thee,

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the
lions ; but taking good heed to the directions of the
Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm.
Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and
stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said
Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this ? and may
I lodge here to-night ? The Porter answered, This house
was built by the Lord of the hill, and He built it for the
relief and security of pilgrims. The Porter also asked
whence he was, and whither he was going.

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am
going to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I
desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.

Port. What is your name ?

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at
the first was Graceless : I came of the race of Japheth,
whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of
Shem.

Port. But how doth it happen you come so late ? The
sun is set.

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man
that I am, I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill
side ! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came
without it to the brow of the hill ; and then feeling for it,
and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to
go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I
found it ; and now I am come.

Port. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this
place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the
rest of the family, according to the rules of the house.
So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of
which came out of the door of the house a grave and
beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she
was called.

The Porter answered, This man is m a journey from
54

DISCOURSE WITH PIETY

the City of Destruction to Mount Zion ; but being weary
and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here
to-night : so I told him I would call for thee, who, after
discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good,
even according to the law of the house.

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he
was going ; and he told her. She asked him also how he
got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him
what he had seen and met with in the way ; and he told
her. And last she asked his name. So he said, It is
Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was
built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of
pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her
eyes ; and after a little pause she said, I will call forth
two or three more of my family. So she ran to the door,
and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a
little more discourse with him, had him in to the family ;
and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the
house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this
house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to
entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and
followed them into the house. So when he was come
in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and
consented together that, until supper was ready, some of
them should have some particular discourse with Christian,
for the best improvement of time; and they appointed
Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him ; and
thus they began.

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so
loving to you to receive you in to our house piety discourses
this night, let us, if perhaps we may better him
ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have
happened to you in your pilgrimage.

Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad that you
are so well disposed.

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to
a pilgrim's life ?

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. I was driven out of my native country by
„ ~ . .. a dreadful sound that was in mine ears ; to

How Christian . »iiii • i i

was driven out of wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend
me, if I abode in that place where I was.

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of
your country this way ?

Chr. It was as God would have it ; for when I was
under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to
HOW he goes into g° > but b7 chance there came a man, even
thewaytoZion to me> as j was trembling and weeping,
whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the
Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and
so set me into the way that hath led me directly to this house.

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the
Interpreter ?

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the re-
A rehearsal of membrance of which will stick by me as

what he saw in long as I live, especially three things ; to
wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan,
maintains His work of grace in the heart ; how the man
had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy ;
and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the
day of judgment was come.

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ?

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought ; it
made my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I am
glad I heard it.

Piety. Was that all you saw at the house of the
Interpreter ?

Chr. No; he took me, and had me where he showed
me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in
gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood
in the door to keep him out ; and how he was bid to come
in, and win eternal glory. Methought those things did
ravish my heart. I would have stayed at that good man's
house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to go.

Piety. And what saw ye else in the way ?
56

DISCOURSE WITH PRUDENCE

Chr. Saw ? Why, I went but a little farther, and I
saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the
tree ; and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off
my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but
then it fell down from off me. 'Twas a strange thing to
me, for I never saw such a thing before : yea, and while
I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking),
three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified
that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of my
rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see ; and
the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and
gave me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out
of his bosom).

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not ?

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best ;
yet some other matter I saw, as namely, I saw three
men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little
out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels ;
but do you think I could awake them ? I also saw
Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to
go, as they pretended, to Zion; but they were quickly
lost, even as myself did tell them, but they would
not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to
get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions*
mouth ; and truly, if it had not been for the good man
the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but
that, after all, I might have gone back again ; but now I
thank God I am here, and J thank you for receiving of
me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few
questions, and desired his answer to them.

Pr. Do you not think sometimes of the prudence dis-
country from whence you came ? courses him

Chr. Yes ; but with much shame and detestation.
Truly, if I had been mindful of that Christian.a
country from whence I came out, I might thoughts of his

• . . i j native country

have had opportunity to have returned ;
but now I desire a better country, that is, an heavenly.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Pr. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the
things that then you were conversant withal ?

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my

Christian dis- inward and carnal cogitations, with which

tasted with carnal all my countrymen, as well as myself,

were delighted. But, now, all those

things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own

, . . things, I would choose never to think of

those things more ; but when I would be

adoing of that which is best, that which is worst is with

me.

Pr. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were
vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ?

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me
Christian's golden golden hours in which such things happen

hours to me<

Pr. Can you remember by what means you find your
annoyances at times as if they were vanquished ?

Chr. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross,

that will do it ; and when I look upon my

ge°tTp^w£tiai broidered coat, that will do it ; and when

against his cor- j JQQ^ into the TO\\ tnat I carry in my bosom,

ruptions J f

that will do it ; and when my thoughts
wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.

Pr. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go
to Mount Zion ?

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did
wh Christian hang dead on the cross ; and there I hope
would be at to be rid of all those things that to this

Mount Zion i • •

day are in me an annoyance to me : there
they say there is no death, and there I shall dwell
with such company as I like best. For, to tell you truth,
I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden ;
and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be
where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall
continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.

Charity discourses Then said Charity to Christian, Have
to™ you a family ? are you a married man ?

DISCOURSE WITH CHARITY

Chr. I have a wife and four small children.

Char. And why did you not bring them along with
you ?

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly
would I have done it! but they were Christian,s love to
all of them utterly averse to my going on his wife and

M • * J ° ° children

pilgrimage.

Char. But you should have talked to them, and have
endeavoured to have shown them the danger of being
behind.

Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had
showed to me of the destruction of our city ; but I
seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed
me not.

Char. And did you pray to God that He would bless
your counsel to them ?

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection; for you
must think that my wife and poor children were very dear
unto me.

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and
fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was
visible enough to you.

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might
also see my fears in my countenance, in
my tears, and also in my trembling under
the apprehension of the judgment that did
hang over our heads ; but all was not
sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

Char. But what could they say for themselves why
they came not ?

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world,
and my children were given to the foolish
delights of youth ; so, what by one thing,
and what by another, they left me to 2gg^did not «°
wander in this manner alone.

Char. But did you not with your vain life damp all
that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring
them away with you ?

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am
conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know
also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow
_. . . , what by argument or persuasion he doth

Christian's good . . J ° - . .

conversation before labour to fasten upon others for their

his wife and children gQ()(L y^ ^ j can say> j wag yery

wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action,
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for
this very thing, they would tell me I was too precise,
and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in
which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if
what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great
tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong
to my neighbour.

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his

own works were evil, and his brother's righteous ;

and if thy wife and children have been

Christian clear of /r» i i • i L c i • i i

their blood, if they offended with thee for this, they there-
pensh by show themselves to be implacable

to good ; and thou hast delivered thy soul from their
blood.

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking
together until supper was ready. So when they had
What Christian made ready, they sat down to meat. Now
had to his supper the table was furnished with fat things, and
with wine that was well refined ; and all their talk at the
table was about the LORD of the hill j as, namely, about
Their talk at sup- tnat HE had done, and whereof HE did
per time what HE did, and why HE had builded that

house ; and by what they said, I perceived that HE had
been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him
that had the power of death, but not without great danger
to Himself, which made me love Him the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, He
did it with the loss of much blood. But that which
put glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it
out of pure love to his country. And besides, there
were some of them of the household that said they had

THE WONDERS SHOWN

been and spoke with Him since He did die on the cross ;
and they have attested, that they had it from His own
lips, that He is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the
like is not to be found from the east to the west. They,
moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed ; and
that was, He had stripped Himself of His glory that He
might do this for the poor; and that they heard Him
say and affirm, that He would not dwell in the mountain
of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that He had made
many pilgrims princes, though by nature Christ makes
they were beggars born, and their original Prin«>s of be^-ars
had been the dunghill.

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and
after they had committed themselves to their Lord for
protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim
they laid in a large upper chamber, whose Christian's bed-
window opened towards the sun-rising, chamber
The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till
break of day, and then he awoke and sang,

Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,
Thus to provide 1 that I should be forgiven,
And dwell already the next door to heaven I

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more
discourse, they told him that he should not depart till
they had showed him the rarities of that place. And first
they had him into the study, where they showed him the
records of the greatest antiquity : in which.

T i ° i II 11. Christian had into

as 1 remember my dream, they showed him the study, and
first the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that what he saw there
He was the Son of the Ancient of Days, and came by that
eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded
the acts that He had done, and the names of many
hundreds that He had taken into His service ; and how
He had placed them in such habitations, that could
neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be
dissolved.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that
some of His servants had done ; as how they had sub-
dued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises,
stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of
fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were
made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight
the armies of the aliens.

Then they read again in another part of the records of
the house, where it was showed how willing their Lord
was to receive into His favour any, even any, though they
in time past had offered great affronts to His person and
proceedings. Here also were several other histories of
many other famous things, of all which Christian had a
view; as of things both ancient and modern, together
with prophecies and predictions of things that have their
certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

The next day they took him, and had him into
Christian had into tne armoury, where they showed him
the armoury au manner of furniture which their Lord

had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet,
breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear
out. And there was here enough of this to harness out
as many men for the service of their Lord, as there be
stars in the heaven for multitude.

They also showed him some of the engines with

Christian is made which SOme ?f His serv*ntS had done

to see ancient wonderful things. They showed him

Moses's rod; the hammer and nail with
which Jael slew Sisera ; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps
too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian.
Then they showed him the ox's goad, wherewith Shamgar
slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-
bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They
showed him moreover the sling and stone with which David
slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their
Lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that He shall
rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many

CHRISTIAN IS ARMED

excellent things, with which Christian was much de-
lighted. This done, they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got
up to go forwards, but they desired him to stay till the
next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the day be
clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; which, they
said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they
were nearer the desired haven than the place where at
present he was ; so he consented and stayed. When the
morning was up, they had him to the top Christian showed
of the house, and bid him look south, DO the Delectable
he did, and behold at a great distance, he
saw a most pleasant, mountainous country, beautified with
woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with
springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then
he asked the name of the country. They said it was
Immanuel's Land ; and it is as common, said they, as
this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou
comest there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see
to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live
there will make appear.

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they
were willing he should. But first, said Christian sets for-
they, let us go again into the armoury. ward
So they did, and when he came there, they harnessed him
from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps
he should meet with assaults in the way. He being there-
for thus accoutred, walked out with his Christian sent
friends to the gate ; and there he asked away armed
the Porter if he saw any pilgrims pass by. Then the
Porter answered, Yes.

Chr. Pray did you know him ? said he.

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.

Chr. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my
townsman, my near neighbour, he comes from the place
where I was born. How far do you think he may be
before ?

Port. He is got by this time below the hill.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be

How Christian with theC» aad add tO a11 th7 blessings

and Porter greet much increase of the kindness that thou
at parting hast showed to me.

Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety,
Charity and Prudence would accompany him down to the
foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill.
Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so
far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said
Prudence, sc it is ; for it is an hard matter for a man to
The Valley of go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as

Humiliation tjlou art now> aQ(J tQ c&tcfo nQ s^p fry ^

way ; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany
thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very
warily ; yet he caught a slip or two.

Then I saw in my dream, that these good companions,
when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill,
gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of
raisins ; and then he went his way.

But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian
was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little way before
he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him :
his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be
afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back, or to
stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no
Christian no armour for his back, and therefore thought

armour for his that to turn the back to him might give

him greater advantage with ease to pierce
him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to venture, and

Christian's resoiu- stand his. g™und ; for, thought he, had I
tion in the approach no more in mine eye than the saving of my

life, 'twould be the best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the
monster was hideous to behold ; he was clothed with
scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings
like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly
came fire and smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth of

CHRISTIAN CLOTHED IN ARMOUR

' They harnessed him from head to foot with what was
of proof/

[see p. 63.

APOLLYON'S DISCOURSE

a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him
with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question
with him.

Apollyon. Whence come you, and Discourse ^^
whither are you bound ? Christian and

Chr. I am come from the City of Apollyon
Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and am
going to the City of Zion.

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my
subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the prince
and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away
from thy king ? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do
me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to
the ground.

Chr. I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but
your service was hard, and your wages such as a man
could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death ; there-
fore when I was come to years, I did, as other considerate
persons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself.

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose
his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee ;
but since thou complainest of thy service ApoUyon
and wages, be content to go back, and what our country
will afford, I do here promise to give thee.

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King
of princes ; and how can I with fairness go back with thee ?

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb,
changed a bad for a worse ; but it is
ordinary for those that have professed vaiues'chrSt?"
themselves His servants, after a while to servlce
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so
too, and all shall be well.

Chr. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my
allegiance to Him ; how then can I go back from this, and
not be hanged as a traitor ?

Apol. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am willing
to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage : and
65 E

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

besides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner now
I stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also
what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides,
O thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I like His
service, His wages, His servants, His government, His
company, and country better than thine ; therefore leave
off to persuade me further ; I am His servant, and I will
follow Him.

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood,
what thou art like to meet with in the way
4re&usend that thou goest. Thou knowest that for
dis^df Christen the most Part His servants come to an ill
hS^aersistinff in enc*' because they are transgressors against
me and my way. How many of them
have been put to shameful death ! And besides, thou
countest His service better than mine ; whereas He never
came yet from the place where He is, to deliver any that
served Him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many
times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered,
either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served
me, from Him and His, though taken by them ! And so I
will deliver thee.

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is on
purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to Him
to the end ; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come
to, that is the most glorious in their account. For, for
present deliverance, they do not much expect it ; for they
stay for their glory ; and then they shall have it, when
their Prince comes in His, and the glory of the angels.

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service
to Him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages of Him ?

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful
to Him ?

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when

thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of

ChrisS'^fnfirmi- Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong

ties against him ways to be rid Qf thy burden, whereas

thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off.

CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON

Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things.
Thou wast also almost persuaded to go back at the sight
of the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and
of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly
desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast
left out ; but the Prince whom I serve and honour is
merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities
possessed me in thy country ; for there I sucked them in,
and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and
have obtained pardon of my Prince.

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage,
saying, I am an enemy to this Prince; I ApollyODj in a
hate His person, His laws, and people ; I rage, fails upon

• i i Christian

am come out on purpose to withstand
thee.

Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the
King's highway, the way of holiness -, therefore take heed
to yourself.

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this
matter. Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my
infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther : here will I
spill thy soul. — And with that he threw a flaming dart at
his breast ; but Christian had a shield in his hand, with
which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to
bestir him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing
darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstanding all
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded
him in his head, his hand, and foot. This
made Christian give a little back : Apoll-
yon, therefore, followed his work amain,
and Christian again took courage, and re-
sisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted
for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite
spent. For you must know, that Christian, by reason of
his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave

Apollyon casteth h.im, a dreadful fall ; and with that Chris-
Christian down to tian s sword flew out or his hand. Then
said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now.
And with that he had almost pressed him to death;
so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as
God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his
last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good
man, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his
sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me,
O mine enemy : when I fall, I shall arise ; and with
Christian's victory that gave him a deadly thrust, which
over Apollyon made him give back, as one that had

received his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that,
made at him again, saying, Nay, in all these things
we are more than conquerors through Him that loved
us. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's
wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no
more.

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had

A brief relation of SeCI1 and heayd aS l did> what yelling and

the combat by the hideous roaring Apollyon made all the
time of the fight ; he spake like a dragon :
and on the other side what sighs and groans burst from
Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give so
much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had
wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then,
indeed, he did smile, and look upward ; but 'twas the
dreadfullest fight that ever I saw.

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here

Christian gives &*ve thanks to Him that hath delivered

God thanks for his me out of the mouth of the lion ; to Him

that did help me against Apollyon. And

so he did, saying,

Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
Designed my ruin ; therefore to this end

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

He sent him harnessed out, and he with rage,
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage:
But blessed Michael helped me, and I,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly ;
Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless His holy name always.

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves
of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied
to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was
healed immediately. He also sat down in that place
to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given
him a little before ; so being refreshed, he addressed him-
self to his journey, with his sword drawn
in his hand ; for, he said, I know not
but some other enemy may be at hand. MS sword drawn

. , i /r> r in his hand

But he met with no other affront from
Apollyon quite through this valley.

Now at the end of this valley was another, called
the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and The valley of the
Christian must needs go through it, be- Shadow of Death
cause the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst
of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place: the
prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : A wilderness, a
land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the
Shadow of Death, a land that no man, but a Christian,
passeth through, and where no man dwelt.

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his
fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see.

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got
on the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met
him two men, children of them that The children of the
brought up an evil report of the good land, «Pies *° back
making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as
follows.

Chr. Whither are you going ?

Men. They said, Back, back, and we would have you
do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you.

Chr. Why, what's the matter ? said Christian.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Men. Matter ? said they ; we were going that way
as you are going, and went as far as we durst : and
indeed we were almost past coming back ; for had we
gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the
news to thee.

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian.

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked before
us, and saw the danger before we came to it.

Chr. But what have you seen ? said Christian.

Men. Seen ? why, the valley itself, which is as dark
as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and
dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a con-
tinual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutter-
able misery, who were sat bound in affliction and irons ;
and over that valley hangs the discouraging clouds of
confusion : death also doth always spread his wings over
it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly
without order.

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by
what you have said, but that this is my way to the
desired haven-
Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for
ours.

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but
still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he
should be assaulted.

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached,
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch; that
ditch is it, into which the blind hath led the blind in
all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again,
behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag,
into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom
for his foot to stand on : into this quag King David once
did fall, and had no doubt there been smothered, had
not He that is able plucked him out.

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and
therefore good Christian was the more put to it ; for when

HORRORS OF THIS VALLEY

he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand,
he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other : also
when he sought to escape the mire, without great careful-
ness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. [Thus
he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly (j for
besides the danger mentioned above, the pathway Svas
here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his foot
to go forward, he knew not where, nor upon what he
should set it next.

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of
hell to be, and it stood also hard by the way-side. Now,
thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever and anon
the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance,
with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for
Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was
forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another
weapon, called All-prayer, so he cried, in my hearing,
O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul. Thus he
went on a great while, yet still the flames would be
reaching towards him ; also he heard doleful voices,
and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he
should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the
streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dread-
ful noises were heard by him, for several miles together ;
and coming to a place where he thought he heard a com-
pany of fiends coming forward to meet ,

.r. J , ii» i Christian put to a

him, he stopped, and began to muse what stand but for a
he had best to do. Sometimes he had whlle
half a thought to go back; then again he thought he
might be half way through the valley. He remembered
also, how he had already vanquished many a danger ; and
that the danger of going back might be much more
than for to go forward. So he resolved to go on;
yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But
when they were come even almost at him, he cried out
with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength
of the Lord God. So they gave back, and came no
farther.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now
poor Christian was so confounded, that he did not know
his own voice; and thus I perceived it. Just when he
was come over against the mouth of the
behiilveathftahe burning pit, one of the wicked ones got
spake bias- behind him, and stepped up softly to

phemies, when . . . . . . ,rr . *

'twas Satan that him, and, whispermgly, suggested many
BffEXtod*" grievous blasphemies to him, which he
verily thought had proceeded from his
own mind. This put Christian more to it than any thing
that he met with before, even to think that he should now
blaspheme Him that he loved so much before. Yet if he
could have helped, he would not have done it ; but he had
not the discretion either to stop his ears, nor to know from
whence those blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate con-
dition some considerable time, he thought he heard the
voice of a man, going before him, saying, Though I
walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will
fear none ill, for Thou art with me.

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons :

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who
feared God were in this valley as well as himself.

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them,
though in that dark and dismal state. And why not,
thought he, with me ? though by reason of the impedi-
ment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it.

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them)
to have company by and by. So he went on, and called
to him that was before ; but he knew not what to answer,
Christian glad at f°T that he also thought himself to be
break of day alone. And by and by the day broke : then

said Christian, He hath turned the shadow of death into
the morning.

Now morning being come, he looked back, not of
desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what
hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw
more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the

IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

4 So he cried in my hearing, O Lord, I beseech Thee,
deliver my soul/

[seep. 71.

THE GIANTS OF THE VALLEY

quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way
was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw the
hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar
off; for after break of day they came not nigh, yet they
were discovered to him, according to that which is written,
He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth
out to light the shadow of death.

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance
from all the dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers,
though he feared them more before, yet he saw them
more clearly now, because the light of the day made them
conspicuous to him. And about this- time the sun was
rising, and this was another mercy to Christian ; for you
must note, that though the first part of the Valley of the
Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this The second part
second part, which he was yet to go, was, of this valley very
if possible, far more dangerous ; for, from an^ert
the place where he now stood, even to the end of the
valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps,
gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes,
and shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as
it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had
a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but,
as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he,
His candle shineth on my head, and by His light I go
through darkness.

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this
valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mingled bodies of men,
even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; and
while I was musing what should be the neason, I espied a
little before me a cave, where two giants, \JPope and Pagan,
dwelt in old time ; by whose power and tyranny the men,
whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put
to death. But by this place Christian went without much
danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I have learnt
since, that Pagan has been dead many a day ; and as for
the other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in
his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints,
that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth,
grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails
because he cannot come at them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet, at the
sight of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he
could not tell what to think, especially because he spake
to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You
will never mend till more of you be burned. But he held
his peace, and set a good face on't, and so went by, and
catched no hurt. Then sang Christian :

O world of wonders (I can say no less),

That I should be preserved in that distress

That I have met with here! O blessed be

That hand that from it hath delivered me!

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,

Did compass me, while I this vale was in ;

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie

My path about, that worthless, silly I

Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down :

But since I live, let Jtsus wear the crown.

Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little
ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might
see before them : up there, therefore, Christian went ; and
looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his
journey. Then said Christian aloud, Ho, ho ; so-ho ; stay,
and I will be your companion. At that Faithful looked
behind him; to whom Christian cried, Stay, stay, till I
come up to you. But Faithful answered, No, I am upon
my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me.

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to
Christian over- all his strength, he quickly got up with
takes Faithful Faithful, and did also overrun him ; so the

last was first. Then did Christian vaingloriously smile,
because he had gotten the start of his brother ; but not
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and
fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came up to
help him.

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on
together, and had sweet discourse of all
things that had happened to them in SSesFaftSSi
their pilgrimage; and thus Christian ^gethef ° lovinffly
began.

Chr. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful,
I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has so
tempered our spirits, that we can walk as companions in
this so pleasant a path.

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your
company quite from our town ; but you did get the start
of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the
way alone.

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruc-
tion, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ?

Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was
great talk presently after you were gone Their talk about
out, that our cky would, in short time, the country from
with fire- from heaven be burned down to
the ground.

Chr. What ! did your neighbours talk so ?

Faith. Yes, 'twas for a while in everybody's mouth.

Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you come
out to escape the danger ?

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it.
For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them
deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey;
for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe,
and do still, that 'the end of our city will be with fire and
brimstone from above ; » and therefore I have made my
escape.

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable ?

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you
till he came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some
said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to have so
done ; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that
kind of dirt.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. And what said the neighbours to him ?

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had
HowPHabiewas greatly rin derision, and that among all
accounted of when sorts or people : some do mock and
despise him, and scarce will any set him
on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had
never gone out of the city.

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since
they also despise the way that he forsook ?

Faith. Oh, they say, Hang him ; he is a turncoat •, he
was not true to his profession ! I think God has stirred
up even his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a
proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came
out ?

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered
away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had
done ; so I spake not to him.

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of that

man ; but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of

the city. For it has happened to him according to the true

proverb, The dog is turned to his vomit

again, and the sow that was washed to her

wallowing in the mire.

Faith. They are my fears of him too; but who can
hinder that which will be ?

Chr. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us
leave him, and talk of things that more immediately con-
cern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met with in
the way as you came ; for I know you have met with some
things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you fell
into, and got up to the gate without that danger ; only I
Faithful assaulted met w^^ one whose name was Wanton,
by wanton wno had like to have done me a mis-

chief.

Chr. 'Twas well you escaped her net ; Joseph was
hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did j but

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL

it had like to have cost him his life. But what did she do
to you ?

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know some-
thing) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me
hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of
content.

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a
good conscience.

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly
content.

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her j the abhorred
of the Lord shall fall into her ditch.

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape
her or no.

Chr. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her
desires ?

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered
an old writing that I had seen, which said, Her steps
take hold of hell. So I shut mine eyes, because I
would not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed
on me, and I went my way.

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ?
Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called
Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, He is assaulted
who asked me what I was, and whither by Adam the first
bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the
Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest
like an honest fellow ; wilt thou be content to dwell with
me, for the wages that I shall give thee ? Then I asked
him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name
was Adam the first, and that he dwelt in the town of
Deceit. I asked him then, what was his work, and
what the wages that he would give. He told me, that
his work was many delights ; and his wages, that
I should be his heir at last. I further asked him, what
house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he
told me, that his house was maintained with all the
dainties in the world, and that his servants were these of

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

his own begetting. Then I asked how many children
he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the
Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of
Life, and that I should marry them, if I would. Then
I asked how long time he would have me live with him,
and he told me, as long as he lived himself.

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man
and you to at last ?

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat
inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake
very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with
nim, I saw there written, Put off the old man with his
deeds.

Chr. And how then ?

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind,
whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got
me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So
I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the
door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me
that he would send such a one after me that should make
my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from
him ; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him
take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch
back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after
himself : this made me cry, O wretched man ! So I
went on my way up hill.

Now when I had got about half way up, I looked
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the
wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where the
settle stands.

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to
rest me ; but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this
roll out of my bosom.

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as
the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow ; for
down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I
was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore
fte served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL

to Adam the first. And with that he struck me another
deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward ;
so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So when I came to
myself again, I cried him mercy : but he said, I know not
how to show mercy ; and with that knocked me down
again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that
One came by, and bid him forbear.

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ?

Faith. I did not know Him at first ; but as He went
by, I perceived the holes in His hands and His side : then
I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up
the hill.

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He
spareth none; neither knoweth he how The temper of
to show mercy to those that transgress Moses
his law.

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first time
that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came to me
when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would
burn my house over my head if I stayed there.

Chr. But did not you see the house that stood there, on
the top of the hill on the side of which Moses met you ?

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it.
But for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was
about noon; and because I had so much of the day
before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down
the hill.

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; but
I wish that you had called at the house, for they would
have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell
me, did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility ?

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would
willingly have persuaded me to go back Faithful assaulted
again with him: his reason was, for that by Discontent
the valley was altogether without honour. He told me,
moreover, that there to go was the way to disobey all
my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be
very much offended, if I made such a fool of myself as to
wade through this valley.

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ?

Faith. I told him, that although all these that he
Faithful's answer named might claim a kindred of men, and
to Discontent that rightly (for indeed they were my

relations according to the flesh), yet since I became a
pilgrim, they have disowned me, and I also have rejected
them ; and therefore they were to me now no more than
if they had never been of my lineage. I told him,
moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite mis-
represented the thing ; for before honour is humility ;
and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore, said I, I
had rather go through this valley to the honour that was
so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he
esteemed most worth our affections.

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ?

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame-, but of all the men
He is assaulted that I met with in my pilgrimage, he, I
with shame think, bears the wrong name. The other

would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and some-
what else; but this bold-faced Shame would never have
done.

Chr. Why, what did he say to you ?

Faith. What ? why he objected against religion itself.
He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man
to mind religion. He said, that a tender conscience was
an unmanly thing ; and that for a man to watch over his
words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring
liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom them-
selves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times.
He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise
were ever of my opinion ; nor any of them neither, before
they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary
fondness to venture the loss of all, for nobody else knows
what. He, moreover, objected the base and low estate and
condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL

times in which they lived ; also their ignorance and want
of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold
me to it at that rate also about a great many more things
than here I relate ; as, that it was a shame to sit whining
and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come sighing
and groaning home ; that it was a shame to ask my neigh-
bour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution
where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion
made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few
vices (which he called by finer names), and made him
own and respect the base, because of the same religious
fraternity : and is not this, said he, a shame ?

Chr. And what did you say to him ?

Faith. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first.
Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my
face ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost
beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider,
that that which is highly esteemed among men, is had
in abomination with God. And I thought again, This
Shame tells me what men are ; but it tells me nothing
what God, or the word of God, is. And I thought,
moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed
to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the
world, but according to the wisdom and law of the
Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best,
is best, though all the men in the world are against it.
Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion ; seeing God
prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make them-
selves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and
that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the
greatest man in the world that hates Him; Shame,
depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I
entertain thee against my sovereign Lord ? how then shall I
look Him in the face at His coming ? Should I now be
ashamed of His ways and servants, how can I expect the
blessing? But indeed this Shame was a bold villain; I
could scarce shake him out of my company ; yea, he
would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me

8l r

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that
attend religion. But at last I told him 'twas but in vain
to attempt further in this business ; for those things that
he disdained, in those did I see most glory : and so at last
I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken
him off, then I began to sing :

The trial* that those men do meet withal,

That are obedient to the heavenly call,

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,

And come, and come, and come again afresh ;

That now, or sometimes else, we by them may

Be taken, overcome, and cast away.

O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men I

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand
this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, I think
he has the wrong name ; for he is so bold as to follow us
in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all
men ; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is good.
But if he was not himself audacious, he would never
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him ;
for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoted the
fool, and none else. The wise shall inherit glory, said
Solomon ; but shame shall be the promotion of fools.

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against
Shame, that would have us be valiant for truth upon the
earth.

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in
that valley ?

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of
the way through that, and also through the Valley of the
Shadow of Death.

Chr. 'Twas well for you ; I am sure it fared far
otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon
almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat
with that foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he
would have killed me, especially when he got me down,
and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed
me to pieces ; for as he threw me, my sword flew out of

TALKATIVE AND FAITHFUL

my hand ; nay, he told me he was sure of me ; but I cried
to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my
troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow
of Death, and had no light for almost half the way through
it. I thought I should have been killed there over and
over ; but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went
through that which was behind with far more ease and
quiet.

Moreover I saw in my dream, that as they went on,
Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man
whose name is Talkative, walking at a distance besides
them ; for in this place there was room enough for them
all to walk. He was a tall man, and Talkative
something more comely at a distance than described
at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this
manner.

Faith. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the
heavenly country ?

Talk. I am going to the same place.

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we shall have your
good company ?

Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion.

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go ... .... .

. . o Faithful and

together, and let us spend our time in Talkative enter
discoursing of things that are profitable.

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very
acceptable, with you, or with any other ; and I am glad
that I have met with those that incline to so good a
work ; for, to speak the truth, there are Taikative's dislike
but few who care thus to spend their time of bad discourse
as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be
speaking of things to no profit ; and this hath been a
trouble to me.

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for
what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth
of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ?

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are
full of conviction ; and I will add, What thing is so pleasant,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ?
What things so pleasant ? that is, if a man hath any de-
light in things that are wonderful. For instance : if a
man doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of
things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders,
or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delight-
ful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ?

Faith. That is true; but to be profited by such
things in our talk, should be our chief design.

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things
Talkative1* fine is most profiable ; for by so doing, a man
discourse may get knowledge of many things ; as of

the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things
above. Thus in general ; but more particular, by this
a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the in-
sufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteous-
ness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it
is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the
like : by this, also, a man may learn what are the great
promises and consolations of the gospel, to his own
comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refuse
false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct
the ignorant.

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear these
things from you.

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so few
understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work
of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; but
ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a man
can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of
these is the gift of God; no man attaineth to them by
human industry, or only by the talk of them.

Talk. All that I know very well, for a man can
o brave Taika- receive nothing, except it be given him
tivel from heaven; all is of grace, not of

works. I could give you a hundred scriptures for the
confirmation of this.

TALKATIVE

What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things
earthly; things moral, or things evangelical/

[seep. 85.

TALKATIVE'S CHARACTER

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse
upon ?

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly,
or things earthly; things moral, or things o brave Taika-
evangelical ; things sacred, or things pro- tivel
fane ; things past, or things to come ; things foreign, or
things at home ; things more essential, or things circum-
stantial ; provided that all be done to our profit.

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and
stepping to Christian (for he walked all Faithful beguiled
this while by himself), he said to him, by Talkative
but softly, What a brave companion have we got !
Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim.

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said,
This man, with whom you are so taken, Christian makes a
will beguile with this tongue of his twenty discovery of Taik-

c \ i i i • ative, telling

of them that know him not. Faithful who he

Faith. Do you know him then ? was

Chr. Know him ? Yes, better than he knows himself.

Faith. Pray what is he ?

Chr. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our town.
I wonder that you should be a stranger to him ; only I
consider that our town is large.

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he
dwell?

Chr. He is the son of one Say- well. He dwelt in
Prating Row, and he is known of all that are acquainted
with him by the name of Talkative, in Prating Row;
and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry
fellow.

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

Chr. That is, to them that have not thorough
acquaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near home
he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man,
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of
the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but
very near more unpleasing.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest,
because you smiled.

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled)
in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I will
give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any
company, and for any talk ; as he talketh now with you,
so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; and the more
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he
hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart,
or house, or conversation ; all he hath lieth in his tongue,
and his religion is to make a noise therewith.

Faith. Say you so ? Then am I in this man greatly
deceived.

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember
Talkative talks, the proverb, They say, and do not;
but does not but the kingdom of God is not in word,

but in power. He talketh of prayer, of repentance,
of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but
only to talk of them. I have been in his family,
and have observed him both at home and abroad ;
His house is empty and I know what I say of him is the
of religion truth. His house is as empty of religion,

as the white of an egg is of savour. There is there
neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the
He is a stain to brute, in his kind, serves God far better
religion than he. He is the very stain, re-

proach, and shame of religion to all that know him,
it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the
town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the
The proverb that common people that know him, A saint
goes of him abroad, and a devil at home. His poor

family finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and
so unreasonable with, his servants, that they neither know
how to do for nor speak to him. Men that have any
Men shun to deal dealings with him say, It's better to deal
with him with a Turk than with him, for fairer

dealing they shall have at their hands. This Talkative
(if it be possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile,

TALKATIVE'S CHARACTER

and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to
follow his steps ; and if he finds in any of them a foolish
timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a
tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads,
and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to
their commendation before others. For my part, I am of
opinion, that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to
stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevents not, the
ruin of many more.

Faith. "Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you,
not only because you say you know him, but also because,
like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I
cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but
because it is even so as you say.

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might,
perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did ; yea,
had I received this report at their hands only, that are
enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a
slander, — a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon
good men's names and professions. But all these things,
yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge,
I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed
of him ; they can neither call him brother nor friend ; the
very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they
know him.

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis-
tinction.

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse
as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without the
soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it The carcase Of
be alone, is but a dead carcase also. The religion
soul of religion is the practical part. Pure religion and
undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the
fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself
unspotted from the world. This Talkative is not aware of;
he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian;
and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

sowing of the seed ; talking is not sufficient to prove that
fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure
ourselves, that at the day of doom, men shall be judged
according to their fruit. It will not be said then, Did
you believe ? but, Were you doers, or talkers only ?
and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the
world is compared to our harvest, and you know men
at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that any thing
can be accepted that is not of faith ; but I speak this to
show you how insignificant the profession of Talkative
will be at that day.

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by
which he describeth the beast that is clean. He is
such an one that parteth the hoof, and cheweth the
cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth
the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is
unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this
Faithful con- truly resemblcth Talkative: he cheweth

vinced of the bad- the cud, he sceketh knowledge ; he cheweth
upon the word, but he divideth not the
hoof. He parteth not with the way of sinners ; but, as the
hare, he retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore
is unclean.

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true
gospel sense of those texts. And I will add another

Talkative like two thing : Paul Calleth SOme mel1' JG*> and

things that sound those great talkers too, sounding brass,
and tinkling cymbals, that is, as he
expounds them in another place, things without life,
giving sound. Things without life; that is, without
the true faith and grace of the gospel ; and, consequently,
things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of
heaven among those that are the children of life, though
their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or
voice of an angel.

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at
first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do to be
rid of him ?

FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you
shall find that he will soon be sick of your company too,
except God shall touch his heart, and turn it.

Faith. What would you have me to do ?

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious
discourse about the power of religion, and ask him
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will),
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or
conversation.

Faith. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said
to Talkative, Come, what cheer ? How is it now ?

Talk. Thank you, well : I thought we should have
had a great deal of talk by this time.

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and
since you left it with me to state the question, let it be
this : How doth the saving grace of God discover itself,
when it is in the heart of man ?

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about
the power of things Well 'tis a very Talkative>s false
good question, and I shall be willing to discovery of a
answer you. And take my answer in workof£race
brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the
heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin.
Secondly

Faith. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. I
think you should rather say, It shows itself by inclining
the soul to abhor its sin.

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying
out against, and abhorring of sin ?

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against
sin, of policy; but he cannot abhor it but Thecryingout
by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. against sin no
I have heard many cry out against sin in S1£noferace
the pulpit, who can yet abide it well enough in the heart,
house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with
A loud voice, as if she had been very holy ; but she would
willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed unclean-
ness with him. Some cry out against sin, even as the

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she
calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging
and kissing it.

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive.

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right.
But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a
discovery of a work of grace in the heart ?

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.

Faith. This sign should have been first ; but first or

Great knowledge last> k is also false 5 for knowledge, great
no sign of grace knowledge, may be obtained in the mys-
teries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in
the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he
may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child
of God. When Christ said, Do you know all these
things ? and the disciples had answered, Yes, He
added, Blessed are ye if ye do them. He doth not
lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in the

Knowledge and doing of them. For there is a know-

knowledge ledge that is not attended with doing :

He that knoweth his Master's will, and doeth it not.
A man may know like an angel, and yet be no
Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. In-
deed, to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and
boasters ; but to do, is that which pleaseth God. Not
that the heart can be good without knowledge, for
without that the heart is naught. There is, therefore,
knowledge and knowledge; — knowledge that resteth in
the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is
True knowledge accompanied with the grace of faith and
attended with love, which puts a man upon doing even

the will of God from the heart: the first
of these will serve the talker ; but without the other the
true Christian is not content. Give me understanding,
and I shall keep Thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with my
whole heart.

Talk. You lie at the catch again ; this is not for
edification.

FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign
how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is.

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree.

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave
to do it ?

Talk. You may use your liberty.

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself,
either to him that hath it, or to standers by.

To him that hath it, thus : It gives him conviction of
sin, especially of the defilement of his One good sign of
nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the *race
sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth
not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ.
This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow
and shame for sin. He findeth, moreover, revealed
in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute
necessity of closing with Him for life ; at the which
he findeth hungerings and thirstings after Him ; to
which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now,
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in
his Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to
holiness, so are his desires to know Him more, and also
to serve Him in this world. But though, I say, it dis-
covereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that
he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace ;
because his corruptions now, and his abused reason,
make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore in
him that hath this work there is required a very sound
judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that
this is a work of grace.

To others it is thus discovered :

I. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ.
2. By a life answerable to that confession : to wit, a life
of holiness ; heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath
a family), and by conversation-holiness in the world;
which in the general teacheth him inwardly to abhor his
sin, and himself for that, in secret ; to suppress it in his

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

family, and to promote holiness in the world ; not by talk
only, as a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a
practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the
word. And now, sir, as to this brief description of the
work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you
have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave
to propound to you a second question.

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ;
let me, therefore, have your second question.

Faith. It is this : Do you experience this first part of
this description of it ? And doth your life and conversa-
Another good sign tion testify the same? or standeth your
of grace religion in word or in tongue, and not

in deed and truth ? Pray, if you incline to answer me
in this, say no more than you know the God above
will say Amen to, and also nothing but what your
conscience can justify you in; for not he that com-
mendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com-
mendeth. Besides, to say, I am thus and thus, when my
conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great
wickedness.

Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, recovering

himself, thus he replied : You come now to experience, to

conscience, and God -, and to appeal to Him for justification

of what is spoken. This kind of discourse

SeasecrXth* I did not expect; nor am I disposed to

Faithful's give an answer to such questions, because

I count not myself bound thereto, unless

you take upon you to be a catechiser ; and though you

should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But

I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ?

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because
I knew not that you had aught else but

The reasons why x . T» • i 1 1 111 i

Faithful put to notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth,

him that question j haye heard of yQU ^ yQu are fl man

whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation
gives this your mouth, profession the lie. They say you
are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the

A GOOD RIDDANCE

worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some already
have stumbled at your wicked ways, Faithful,s plain
and that more are in danger of being dealing to

111 ,• • i Talkative

destroyed thereby ; your religion, and an
ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swear-
ing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand
together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a
whore, to wit, That she is a shame to all women. So
you are a shame to all professors.

Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge
so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude Talkative flings
you are some peevish or melancholy man, away from

J r i j. r 1-1 i j- Faithful

not fit to be discoursed with ; and so, adieu.

Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told
you how it would happen ; your words and his lusts could
not agree. He had rather leave your company than reform
his life. But he is gone, as I said : let him

, , . » i i • i A good riddance

go ; the loss is no man s but his own ; he
has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he con-
tinuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have
been but a blot in our company. Besides, the apostle
says, From such withdraw thyself.

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse
with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again :
however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of
his blood, if he perisheth.

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you
did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with men
now-a-days,and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils
of many as it doth : for they are these talkative fools,
whose religion is only in word, and are debauched and
vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted
into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world,
blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that
all men would deal with such as you have done ; then
should they either be made more conformable to religion,
or the company of saints would be too hot for them.
Then did Faithful say,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes I
How bravely doth he speak 1 How he presume*
To drive down all before him! But so soon
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon
That's past the full, into the wane he goes;
And so will all but he that heart-work knows.

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by
the way, and so made that way easy, which would other-
wise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now they
went through a wilderness.

Now when they were got almost quite out of this
wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and
espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh !
said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder ? Then
Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist.
Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful, for 'twas he

Evangelist over- tiiat set me tne wav to the gate. Now

takes them again was Evangelist come up unto them, and
thus saluted them.^

Evan. Peace be unto you, dearly beloved, and peace be
to your helpers.

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the
They are glad at sight of thy countenance brings to my
the sight of Mm remembrance thy ancient kindness and
unwearied labouring for my eternal good.

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good
Faithful, thy company, O sweet Evangelist ; how desirable
is it to us poor pilgrims !

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with
you, my friends, since the time of our last parting ? What
have you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves ?

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that
had happened to them in the way ; and how, and with
what difficulty, they had arrived to that place.

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met
His exhortation w^h trials, but that you have been victors,
to them an(j for that vou have, notwithstanding

many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day.

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine
94

EVANGELIST'S EXHORTATIONS

own sake and yours ; I have sowed, and you have reaped ;
and the day is coming, when both he that soweth, and
they that reap, shall rejoice together; that is, if you
hold out; for in due time ye shall reap, if ye faint
not. The crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible
one; so run that you may obtain it. Some there be
that set out for this crown, and after they have gone
far for it, another comes in and takes it from them :
hold fast, therefore, that you have ; let no man take
your crown. You are not yet out of the gun-shot
of the devil ; you have not yet resisted unto blood,
striving against sin. Let the kingdom be always before
you, and believe stedfastly concerning things that are
invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other
world get within you. And, above all, look well to
your own hearts and to the lusts thereof; for they are
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Set
your faces like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and
earth on your side.

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation ;
but told him withal, that they would have _,

. . . r . J They do thank

him speak further to them for their help him for his
the rest of the way ; and the rather, for
that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell
them of things that might happen unto them, and also how
they might resist and overcome them. To which request
Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth.
Evan. My sons, you have heard in the words of the
truth of the gospel, that you must through
many tribulations enter into the kingdom ShaS'trouSS
of heaven ; and again, that in every city, they shall meet
bonds and afflictions abide on you ; and
therefore you cannot expect that you should
go long on your pilgrimage without them,
in some sort or other. You have found something of the
truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will
immediately follow ; for now, as you see, you are almost
out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

into a town that you will by and by see before you ; and
in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who
will strain hard but they will kill you •, and be you sure
that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you
hold with blood ; but be you faithful unto death, and

He whose lot it the IGng wil1 giv6 7°" E Cr°WQ °f life'

will be there to He that shall die there, although his death

suffer, will have >n t i j i • • i

the better of his will be unnatural, and his pain, perhaps,
brother great, he will yet have the better of his

fellow ; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial
City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries
that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey.
But when you are come to the town, and shall find
fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your
friend, and quit yourselves like men, and commit the
keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a
faithful Creator.

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out
of the wilderness they presently saw a town before them,
ind the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town
there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all
the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair,
because the town where it is kept, is lighter than vanity ;
and also, because all that is there sold, or that cometh
thither, is vanity, as is the saying of the wise, All that
cometh is vanity.

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of
The antiquity of ancient standing. I will show you the
this fair original of it.

Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims
walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons
are ; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their
companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made,
that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity,
they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair wherein should
The merchandise be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it
of this fair should last all the year long. Therefore

at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands,

VANITY FAIR

trades, places, honours, preferments, titles, countries,
kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, as
whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters,
servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls,
precious stones, and what not.

And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be
seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves
and rogues, and that of every kind.

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts,
murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood-
red colour.

And as, in other fairs of less moment, there are the
several rows and streets under their proper names, where
such and such wares are vended ; so here likewise you
have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries
and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest
to be found. Here is the Britain Row, The streets of
the French Row, the Italian Row, the this fair
Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of
vanities are to be sold. But as in other fairs some one
commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of
Rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this
fair ; only our English nation, with some others, have
taken a dislike thereat.

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies
just through this town where this lusty fair is kept ;
and he that will go to the city, and yet not go
through this town, must needs go out of the world.
The Prince of princes Himself, when here, Christ went
went through this town to His own through this fair
country, and that upon a fair-day too ; yea, and, as I
think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that
invited Him to buy of his vanities, yea, would have made
Him lord of the fair, would He but have done him
reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because
He was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had Him
from street to street, and showed Him all the kingdoms
of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible,

97 G

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

allure that Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of
Christ bought no- his vanities; but He had no mind to the
thing in this fair merchandise, and, therefore, left the town
without laying out so much as one farthing upon these
vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long
standing, and a very great fair.

Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through
The pilgrims enter this fair. Well, so they did; but,
thefair behold, even as they entered into the

fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the

The fair in a hub- town itselr~> as Jt were» in a hubbub about
bub about them them, and that for several reasons : For

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of
The first cause of raiment as was diverse from the raiment
the hubbub of any that traded in that fair. The

people, therefore, of the fair made a great gazing upon
them ; some said they were fools ; some they were
bedlams ; and some they are outlandish men.

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel,
The second cause so they did likewise at their speech; for
of the hubbub few could understand what they said.

They naturally spoke the language of Canaan ; but they
that kept the fair were the men of this world. So that
from one end of the fair to the other, they seemed
barbarians each to the other.

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the
Third cause of the merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set
hubbub Very light by all their wares. They cared

not so much as to look upon them ; and if they called
upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their
ears, and cry, Turn away mine eyes from beholding
vanity, and look upwards, signifying that their trade and
traffic was in heaven.

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the
Fourth cause of men, to say unto them, What will ye
the hubbub buy ? But they, looking gravely upon

him, said, We buy the truth. At that, there was an
occasion taken to despise the men the more ; some

VANITY FAIR

* As they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved,
and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them.

[see p. 98.

THE PILGRIMS IN THE CAGE

mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully,
and some calling upon others to smite

, &, . r , , They are mocked.

them. At last things came to a hub- The fair in a

bub, and great stir in the fair, insomuch hubbub

that all order was confounded. Now was word presently

brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came

down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take

these men into examination, about whom They are ex_

the fair was almost overturned. So the amined

men were brought to examination ; and they that sat upon

them asked whence they came, whither they went, and

what they did there in such an unusual

, *W 111 i i They tell who they

garb. The men told them that they were are, and whence
pilgrims and strangers in the world, and theycame
that they were going to their own country, which was
the heavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given
no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the
merchandizers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in
their journey, except it was for that, when one asked
them what they would buy, they said they would buy the
truth. But they that were appointed to examine them,
did not believe them to be any other than They are not
bedlams and mad, or else such as came to believed
put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore
they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with
dirt, and then put them into the cage, They are put in
that they might be made a spectacle to all the ca*e
the men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay for some
time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or
malice, or revenge ; the great one of the fair laughing
still at all that befell them. But the men Their behaviour
being patient, and not rendering railing in the cage
for railing, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good
words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in
the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for
their continual abuses done by them to the men. They,
therefore, in angry manner let fly at them again, counting

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them
that they seemed confederates, and should
dofauoufamon'f be made partakers of their misfortunes,
^e otners replied, that, for aught thej
could see, the men were quiet and sober,
and intended nobody any harm ; and that there were man)
that traded in their fair, that were more worthy to be put
into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that
they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on
both sides (the men behaving themselves all the while
very wisely and soberly before them), they fell to some
blows, and did harm one to another.

They are made the __,, ,

authors of this dis- 1 hen were these two poor men brought

before their examiners again, and there

charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been

in the fair. So they beat them pitifully,

jUdiown tifedfair an^ hanged irons upon them, and led them

terror'toothers *n c^ains up and down the fair, for an

example and terror to others, lest any

should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them.

But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more

wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was

cast upon them, with so much meekness and patience, that

c , . it won to their side (though but few in com-

bome ol tne men . r \ \ ° . r .

of the fair won to panson or the rest) several or the men m
the fair. This put the other party yet into

a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of
these two men. Wherefore they threatened.

Their adversaries . . • t j i .

resolve to kill that the cage nor irons should serve their

turn, but that they should die for the abuse
they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair.

Then were they remanded to the cage
?utTnfoethegcage, again, until further order should be taken
tontrij2er brough* with them. So they put them in, and made

their feet fast in the stocks.

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they
had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were
the more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what

loo

BROUGHT TO TRIAL

he told them wouJd happen to them. They also now
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even
he should have the best on't ; therefore each man secretly
wished that he might have that preferment. But committing
themselves to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all
things, with much content they abode in the condition in
which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of.

Then, a convenient time being appointed, they brought
them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation.
When the time was come, they were brought before their
enemies, and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord
Hate-good ; their indictment was one and the same in
substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the con-
tents whereof was this : That they were
enemies to, and disturbers of, their trade ; The
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town,
and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions,
in contempt of the law of their prince.

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set
himself against that which had set itself Faithful answers
against Him that is higher than the highest. for himself
And, said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being
myself a man of peace : the parties that were won to us,
were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they
are only turned from the worse to the better. And as to
the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of
our Lord, I defy him and all his angels.

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught
to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the
bar, should forthwith appear, and give in their evidence.
So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Supersti-
tion, and Pickthank. They were then asked, if they knew
the prisoner at the bar ; and what they had to say for their
lord the king against him.

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My
lord, I have known this man a long time,
and will attest upon my oath before this

honourable bench, that he is

101

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Judge. Hold — give him his oath.

So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this man,
notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest
men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince nor
people, law nor custom, but doth all that he can to
possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which
he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness.
And in particular, I heard him once myself affirm, that
Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity were
diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled. By
which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only con-
demn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them.

Judge. Then did the judge say unto him, Hast thou
any more to say ?

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would
not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the
other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than
any thing shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will
enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid
stand by.

.Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon
Superstition ^e prisoner. They also asked, what he

follows could say for their lord the king against

him. Then they sware him ; so he began :

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with
this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of
him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent
fellow, from some discourse that the other day I had with
him in this town ; for then, talking with him, I heard him
say, that our religion was naught, and such by which a
man could by no means please God. Which saying of his,
my lord, your lordship very well knows what necessarily
thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned : and
this is that which I have to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew
in behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at
the bar.

102

FAITHFUL'S DEFENCE

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I
have known of a long time, and have pickthank's testi-
heard him speak things that ought not to mony
be spoken; for he hath railed on our noble prince
Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honour-
able friends, whose names are, the Lord Old Man, the
Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, Sins are ail lords,
the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old and great ones
Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of
our nobility : and he hath said, moreover, that if all men
were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these
noblemen should have any longer a being in this town.
Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord,
who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you
an ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry
of our town.

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge
directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying,
Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what
these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ?

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence ?

Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer,
but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that all
men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear
what thou vile runagate hast to say.

Faith. I. I say, then, in answer to what Mr Envy
hath spoken, I never said aught but this, Faithful's defence
that what rule, or laws, or custom, or of himself
people, were flat against the word of God, are diametri-
cally opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this,
convince me of my error, and 1 am ready here before you
to make my recantation.

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr Superstition and his
charge against me, I said only this, that in the worship of
God there is required a divine faith ; but there can be no
divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God.
Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God,

103

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be done
but by a human faith, which faith will not be profitable to
eternal life.

3. As to what Mr Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding
terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that the
prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his attendants,
by this gentleman named, are more fit for being in hell
than in this town and country. And so the Lord have
mercy upon me.

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while
The judge's stood by to hear and observe), Gentlemen

speech to the jury of the jury, you see this man about whom
so great an uproar hath been made in this town ; you have
also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed
against him j also you have heard his reply and confession:
it lieth now in your breast to hang him, or save his life ;
but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law.

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the
great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary
religion should multiply, and grow too strong for him,
their males should be thrown into the river. There was
also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the great,
another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down
and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a
fiery furnace. There was also an act made in the days
of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any God
but him, should be cast into the lions' den. Now the
substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in
thought (which is not to be borne), but also in word and
deed ; which must, therefore, needs be intolerable.

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon supposi-
tion, to prevent mischief, no crime yet being apparent ;
but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third,
you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the
treason that he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the
death.

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr
Blindman, Mr No-good, Mr Malice, Mr Love-lust, Mr

104

FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM
'Last of all they burned him to ashes at the stake.
Faithful to his end/

Thus came
[see p. 105.

FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM

Live-loose, Mr Heady, Mr High-mind, Mr Enmity, Mr
Liar, Mr Cruelty, Mr Hatelight, and Mr Implacable;
who every one gave in his private verdict The jury and
against him among themselves, and after- their names
wards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty
before the judge. And first among themselves,
Mr Blindman, the foreman, said, I see clearly that
this man is a heretic. Then said Mr Everyone's
No-good, Away with such a fellow from private verdict
the earth. Ay, said Mr Malice, for I hate the very
looks of him. Then said Mr Love-lust, I could never
endure him. Nor I, said Mr Live-loose, for he would
always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang
him, said Mr Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr High-
mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr Enmity
He is a rogue, said Mr Liar. Hanging is too good for
him, said Mr Cruelty. Let's despatch him out of the
way, said Mr Hate-light. Then said Mr

ml t_i **• L T i 11 i ij They conclude to

Implacable, Might I have all the world bring him in
given me, I could not be reconciled to *uilty of d«~th
him ; therefore let us forthwith bring him guilty of death.

And so they did ; therefore he was presently condemned
to be had from the place where he was, to the place from
whence he came, and there to be put to the most cruel
death that could be invented.

They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him
according to their law j and first they scourged him, then
they buffeted him, then they lanced his The cruel death of
flesh with knives; after that they stoned Faithful
him with stones ; then pricked him with their swords ;
and last of ali they burned him to ashes at the stake.
Thus came Faithful to his end.

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for
Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries
had despatched him) was taken up into it,
and straightway was carried up through
tne clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the

105

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some respite,

Christian still a and was remanded back to prison; so he

prisoner there remained for a space. But He that

overrules all things, having the power of their rage in

His own hand, so wrought it about, that Christian for
that time escaped them, and went his way.
And as he went he sang, saying,

Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest

Th sonp-that Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest,

Christian made When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,

of Faithful after Are crying out under their hellish plights :
his death sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive,

For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive.

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth
Christian has alone ; for there was one whose name was

another companion Hopeful (being so made by the beholding
of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in
their sufferings at the fair), who joined himself unto him,
and entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that he
would be his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony
to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a

There are more of C™P™OU ^ Christian in his pilgrimage.

the men of the fair I his rloperul also told Christian, that
there were many more of the men in the
fair that would take their time and follow after.

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of the
They overtake f^T they overtook one that was going
By-ends before them, whose name was By-ends ;

so they said to him, What countryman, sir ? and how far
go you this way ? He told them, that he came from the
town of Fair-speech, and he was going to the Celestial
City ; but told them not his r.ame.

From Fair-speech ? said Christian j is there any good
that lives there ?

By. Yes, said By-ends, I hope.

Chr. Pray, sir, what may 1 call you ? said Christian.

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if you be
By-ends loth to going this way, I shall be glad of your
tell his name company ; if not, I must be content.

106

DISCOURSE WITH BY-ENDS

Chr. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have
heard of it ; and, as I remember, they say it's a wealthy place.

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very
many rich kindred there.

Chr. Pray who are your kindred there, if a man may
be so bold.

By. Almost the whole town ; and in particular, my
Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-
speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its
name ; also Mr Smooth-man, Mr Facing-both-ways, Mr
Any-thing ; and the parson of our parish, Mr Two-
tongues, was my mother's own brother, by father's side ;
and, to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of
good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a water-
man, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most
of my estate by the same occupation.

Chr. Are you a married man ?

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman,
the daughter of a virtuous woman; she was my Lady
Feigning's daughter; therefore she came Thewifeand
of a very honourable family, and is kindred of By-
arrived to such a pitch of breeding, that
she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and
peasant. 'Tis true, we somewhat differ in religion from
those of the stricter sort, yet but in two Where By.ends
small points : First, we never strive against differs from others
wind and tide. Secondly, we are always
most zealous when Religion goes in his silver slippers ;
we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun
shines, and the people applaud him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow
Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By-
ends, of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a
knave in our company as dwell eth in all these parts.
Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not be
ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him
again, and said, Sir, you talk as if you knew something
more than all the world doth ; and, if I take not my mark

107

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

amiss, I deem I have naif a guess of you. Is not your
name Mr By-ends, of Fair- speech ?

By. This is not my name ; but, indeed, it is a nick-
name that is given me by some that cannot abide me, and
I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good
men have borne theirs before me.

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to
call you by this name ?

By. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to give
HOW By-ends got them an occasion to give me this name

his name was> that J hacj ajways the luck tO jump

in my judgment with the present way of the times, what-
ever it was, and my chance was to get thereby; but if
things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a bless-
ing; but let not the malicious load me, therefore, with
reproach.

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I
heard of; and to tell you what I think, I fear this name
belongs to you more properly than you are willing we
should think it doth.

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it,'

He desires to keep 7°u sha11 fin? me a fair company-keeper,
company with if you will still admit me your associate.

CiiristicLn y** TT MI * \

Chr. If you will go with us, you must
go against wind and tide ; the which, I perceive, is against
your opinion : you must also own Religion in his rags, as
well as when in his silver slippers ; and stand by him, too,
when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the
streets with applause.

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith ;
leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you.

Chr. Not a step farther, unless you will do in what I
propound as we.

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old prin-
ciples, since they are harmless and profitable. If I may
By-ends and not go with you, I must do as I did be-

Christian part fore yOU overtook me, even go by myself,

until some overtake me tnat will be glad of my company.

108

DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful
forsook him, and kept their distance before him ; but one
of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr By-
ends ; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made
them a very low congee ; and they also gave him a com-
pliment. The men's names were, Mr Hold-the-world,
Mr Money-love, and Mr Save-all, men He has new com-
that Mr By-ends had formerly been ac- pylons
quainted with, for in their minority they were school-
fellows, and were taught by one Mr Gripe-man, a school-
master in Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county
of Coveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught them
the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattery,
lying, or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these
four gentlemen had attained much of the art of their
master, so that they could each of them have kept such a
school themselves.

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each
other, Mr Money-love said to Mr By-ends, Who are they
upon the road before us ? for Christian and Hopeful were
yet within view.

By. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after
their mode, are going on pilgrimage. By-ends' char-

Money. Alas! why did they not stay, acterofthe
that we might have had their good com- pll*rm
pany ? for they and we, and you, sir, I hope are all going
on a pilgrimage.

By. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are
so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do also
lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be
ever so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things,
they thrust him quite out of their company.

Mr Save. That's bad ; but we read of some that are
righteous overmuch, and such men's rigidness prevails
with them to judge and condemn all but themselves.
But I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein
you differed ?

By. Why they, after their headstrong manner,
109

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

conclude that it is duty to rush on their journey all
weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They
are for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking
all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for
holding their notions, though all other men be against them;
but I am for religion in what, and so far as, the times and
my safety will bear it. They are for Religion when in
rags and contempt ; but I am for him when he walks in
his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with applause.

Mr Hold- the- World. Ay, and hold you there still,
good Mr By-ends ; for my part, I can count him but a fool,
that having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so
unwise to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It's best
to make hay when the sun shines. You see how the bee
lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can
have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain,
and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools to go
through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather
along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that
will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto
us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason,
since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this
life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake ?
Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job
says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he
must not be such as the men before us, if they be as you
have described them.

Mr Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter ;
and therefore there needs no more words about it.

Mr Money. No, there needs no more words about this
matter indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture nor
reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither
knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.

Mr By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on
pilgrimage ; and for our better diversion from things that
are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question.

Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, etc., should
have an advantage lie before him to get the good blessings

DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS

of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by
them, except, in appearance at least, he becomes extra-
ordinary zealous in some points of religion that he meddled
not with before ; may he not use this means to attain his
end, and yet be a right honest man ?

Mr Money. I see the bottom of your question ; and,
with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape
you an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it
concerns a minister himself: suppose a minister, a worthy
man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his
eye a greater, more fat and plump by far ; he has also now
an opportunity of getting of it, yet so as by being more
studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously,
and, because the temper of the people requires it, by
altering of some of his principles ; for my part, I see no
reason but a man may do this, provided he has a call, ay,
and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man.
For why ?

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot
be contradicted), since 'tis set before him by Providence ;
so then he may get it if he can, making no question for
conscience sake.

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more
studious, a more zealous preacher, etc., and so makes him
a better man, yea, makes him better improve his parts,
which is according to the mind of God.

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his
people, by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles,
this argueth, I. That he is of a self-denying temper.
2. Of a sweet and winning deportment. 3. And so more
fit for the ministerial function.

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small
for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged as
covetous ; but rather, since he is improved in his parts
and industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his
call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good.

And now to the second part of the question, which
concerns the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an

III

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by be-
coming religious, he may mend his market, perhaps get a
rich wife, or more and far better customers to his shop ;
for my part, I see no reason but that this may be lawfully
done. For why ?

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means
soever a man becomes so.

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom
to my shop.

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming re-
ligious, gets that which is good of them that are good, by
becoming good himself; so then here is a good wife, and
good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming
religious, which is good; therefore, to become religious
to get all these is a good and profitable design.

This answer thus made by Mr Money-love to Mr
By-ends' question, was highly applauded by them all ;
wherefore they concluded upon the whole, that it was
most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they
thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because
Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly
agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they
overtook them ; and the rather, because they had opposed
Mr By-ends before. So they called after them, and they
stopped and stood still till they came up to them ; but they
concluded as they went, that not Mr By-ends, but old Mr
Hold-the- World, should propound the question to them,
because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be
without the remainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt
Mr By-ends and them at their parting a little before.

So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation,
Mr Hold-the-World propounded the question to Christian
and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they could.

Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may
answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be un-
lawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is; how much
more is it abominable to make of Him and religion a
stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world ! Nor do we

112

MR HOLD-THE-WORLD

find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches,
that are of this opinion.

1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind
to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there
was no way for them to come at them but by becoming
circumcised, they say to their companions, If every male
of us be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not
their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs
be ours ? Their daughters and their cattle were that which
they sought to obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse
they made use of to come at them. Read the whole
story.

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion :
long prayers were their pretence ; but to get widows'
houses was their intent, and greater damnation was from
God their judgment.

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion : he was
religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of what
was therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and the very
son of perdition.

4. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he
would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got
money therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth
was according.

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man
that takes up religion for the world, will throw away
religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas designed
the world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell
religion and his Master for the same. To answer the
question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have
done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is
heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish ; and your reward
will be according to your works.

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not
wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved
of the soundness of Christian's answer; so there was a
great silence among them. Mr By-ends and his company
also staggered, and kept behind, that Christian and

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to his
fellow, If these men cannot stand before the sentence of
men, what will they do with the sentence of God ? And
if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what
will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of
a devouring fire !

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and

The ease that pit Went tiU the? Came at * delicate Plain»

grims have is but called Ease, where they went with much

little in this life i i • i

content; but that plain was but narrow,
so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther
side of that plain was a little hill, called Lucre, and in
that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had
formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had
turned aside to see ; but going too near the brim of the
Lucre Hill, a dan- pit, die ground, being deceitful under
geroushiii them, broke, and they were slain: some

also had been maimed there, and could not, to their dying
day, be their own men again.

DemasattheHiii Then I saw in my dream, that a little
Lucrc off the road, over against the silver mine,

stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call passengers to

come and see; who said to Christian

He calls to Chris- . . . c n ' . »j t» i

tianand Hopeful and his fellow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and

to come to lu»

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of
the way to see it ?

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it
for treasure ; if you will come, with a little pains you may
richly provide for yourselves.

Hopeful tempted Hope. Then said Hopeful, let us go see.

upholds Sta* Chr. Not I, said Christian ; I have heard

back of this place before now, and how many

there have been slain ; and, besides, that treasure is a snare
to those that seek it, for it hindereththem in their pilgrimage.

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the
place dangerous ? Hath it not hindered many in their
pilgrimage ?

114

DEMAS
* Then said Hopeful, Let us go see/

[see p. 114,

BY-ENDS AND DEMAS

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that
are careless ; but withal, he blushed as he spake.

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir
a step, but still keep on our way.

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up,
if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in
thither to see.

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there.

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will
you not come over and see ?

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas,
thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Christian roundeth
Lord of this way, and hast been already up Demas
condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of His
Majesty's judges, and why seekest thou to bring us into
the like condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside,
our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will
there put us to shame, where we would stand with boldness
before Him.

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their
fraternity ; and that if they would tarry a little, he also
himself would walk with them.

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name ? Is it
not the same by the which I have called thee ?

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of
Abraham.

Chr. I know you ; Gehazi was your great-grandfather,
and Judas your father, and you have trod their steps ;
it is but a devilish prank that thou usest ; thy father
was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better
reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the King,
we will do Him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they
went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come
again within sight, and they at the first By -ends goes over
beck went over to Demas. Now, whether to D«m"
they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were
smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly
arise, of these things I am not certain ; but this I observed,
that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang
Christian :

By-ends and silver Demas both agree ;
One calls, the other runs, that he may be
A sharer in his lucre: so these do
Take up in this world, and no farther go.

Now I saw, that just on the other side of this plain, the
They see a strange pilgrims came to a place where stood an
monument o\£ monument hard by the highway-side,

at the sight of which they were both concerned, because
of the strangeness of the form thereof ; for it seemed to
them as if it had been a woman transformed into the
shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what
they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied
written above upon the head thereof a writing in an
unusual hand ; but he being no scholar, called to Christian
(for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the
meaning : so he came, and after a little laying of letters
together, he found the same to be this, Remember Lot's
wife. So he read it to his fellow; after which they
both concluded, that that was the pillar of salt into which
Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a
covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for
safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them
occasion of this discourse.

Chr. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight, it
came opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas
gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre ; and had we
gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclined to do,
my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made like this
woman a spectacle for those that shall come after, to behold.

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made
to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein
was the difference 'twixt her sin and mine ? She only

116

DISCOURSE ON LOT'S WIFE

looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be
adored ; and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing
should be in mine heart.

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our
help for time to come. This woman escaped one judgment,
for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she was
destroyed by another, as we see ; she is turned into a
pillar of salt.

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and
example ; caution, that we should shun her sin, or a sign
of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be pre-
vented by this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram,
with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their
sin, did also become a sign or example to beware. But
above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and
his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for
that treasure, which this woman but for looking behind
her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot
out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt ; specially
since the judgment which overtook her did but make
her an example within sight of where they are ; for
they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up
their eyes.

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth
that their hearts are grown desperate in that case ; and I
cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to them
that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will
cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men of
Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they
were sinners ' before the Lord,' that is, in His eye-sight,
and notwithstanding the kindnesses that He had showed
them ; for the land of Sodom was now like the garden
of Eden heretofore. This, therefore, provoked Him
the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as
the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it
is most rationally to be concluded, that such, even such
as these are, they that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that
too in despite of such examples that are set continually

117

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

before them to caution them to the contrary, must be
partakers of severest judgments.

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what
a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not
made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion to
us to thank God, to fear before Him, and always to
remember Lot's wife.

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant
river, which David the king called the
river of God ; but John, the river of
the water of life. Now their way lay just upon the
bank of the river : here, therefore, Christian and his
companion walked with great delight ; they drank
also of the water of the river, which was pleasant
Trees by the river anc^ enlivening to their weary spirits.
Besides, on the banks of this river, on
The fruit and either side, were green trees for all

leaves of the trees manner of fruit ; and the leaves they ate
to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident
to those that heat their blood by travels. On either
side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beauti-
fied with lilies ; and it was green all the

A meadow in , _. , . , , .

which they lie year long. In this meadow they lay down

to sleep ancj sjeptj for j^re they might lie down

safely. When they awoke, they gathered again of the

fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the

river, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did
several days and nights. Then they sang :

Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide,

To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side.

The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,

Yield dainties for them ; and he that can tell

What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field.

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were
not as yet at their journey's end), they ate, and drank, and
departed.

Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed
118

BY-PATH MEADOW

far, but the river and the way for a time parted, at
which they were not a little sorry ; yet they durst not
go out of the way. Now the way from the river was
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels ;
so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged be-
cause of the way. Wherefore still as they went on, they
wished for better way. Now a little
before them, there was on the left hand By'p)
of the road a meadow and a stile to go over into it, and
that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said
Christian to his fellow, if this Meadow lieth along by our
way-side, let's go over into it. Then he went to the stile
to see, and behold a path lay along by the Onet tation
way on the other side or the fence. Tis does make way
according to my wish, said Christian ; here
is the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.

Hope. But, how if this path should lead us out of the
way ?

Chr. That's not like, said the other. Look, doth it
not go along by the way-side ? So Hopeful, being per-
suaded by his fellow, went after him over
the stile. When they were gone over, and
were got into the path, they found it very ones out of the
easy for their feet ; and withal, they,
looking before them, espied a man walking as they did,
and his name was Vain-Confidence : so they called after
him, and asked him whither that way led. See what it is too
He said, To the celestial gate. Look, said suddenly to fail in
Christian, did not I tell you so ? by this
you may see we are right. So they followed, and he went
before them. But behold the night came on, and it grew
very dark ; so that they that went behind lost the sight of
him that went before.

He therefore that went before (Vain-Confidence by
name), not seeing the way before him, fell A pit to catch the
into a deep pit, which was on purpose there vam-giorious in
made by the prince of those grounds to catch vain-glorious
fools withal, and was dashed to pieces with his fall.

119

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So. they
called to know the matter, but there was none to answer,

Reasoning be- ™l? ^7*™* * grOaning' ^™ Said

tween Christian Hopeful, Where are we now : Ihen was
and Hopeful ^jg fellow silent, as mistrusting that he

had led him out of the way ; and now it began to rain,
and thunder and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and
the water rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I
had kept on my way !

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should
have led us out of the way ?

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore
gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer,
but you are older than I.

Chr. Good brother, be not offended ;

an^h^inT'" l ™ SOri7 l haVC br°Ught theC OUt °f the
of h»s brother way ancj that J have pUt faee jnto sucn

out of the way J ; _ *

imminent danger. Pray, my brother, for-
give me ; I did not do it of an evil intent.

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ;
and believe, too, that this shall be for our good.

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother;
but we must not stand thus ; let's try to go back again.

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before.

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there
be any danger, I may be first therein, because by my
means we are both gone out of the way.

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for

your mind being troubled may lead you out of the

way again. Then for their encouragement they heard

the voice of one saying, Let thine heart be towards the

highway, even the way that thou wentest ; turn again.

But by this time the waters were greatly

da^ler'oVdrown- "sen, by reason of which the way of

Sue" they g° g°*ng back was Vei7 dangerous. (Then I

thought that it is easier going out of the

way when we are in, than going in when we are

1 20

IN THE DUNGEON OF GIANT DESPAIR

4 Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night,
without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light.

[see p. 121.

GIANT DESPAIR SEIZES THEM

out.) Yet they adventured to go back ; but it was so
dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going
back they had like to have been drowned nine or ten
times.

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get
again to the stile that night. Wherefore at last, lighting
under a little shelter, they sat down there _,

... i , i , ii« i ney sleep in the

till the day brake; but, being weary, grounds of Giant
they fell asleep. Now there was, not far espalr
from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting
Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was
in his grounds they were now sleeping : wherefore he,
getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down
in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his
grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice he bid them
awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they
did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims,
and that they had lost their way. Then
said the giant, You have this night tres-
passed on me by trampling in and lying on
my ground, and therefore you must go
along with me. So they were forced to go, because he
was stronger than they. They also had but little to say,
for they knew themselves in a fault. The giant, therefore,
drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into
a very dark dungeon, nasty, and stinking to the spirits of
these two men. Here, then, they lay from

_T_ . . .11 ri i • i The gnevousness

Wednesday morning till Saturday night, of their imprison-
without one bit of bread or drop of drink,
or light, or any to ask how they did : they were, there-
fore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and
acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double
sorrow, because 'twas through his unadvised counsel that
they were brought into this distress.

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was
Diffidence : so when he was gone to bed, he told his wife
what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of
prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing

121

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best
to do further to them. So she asked what they were,
whence they came, and whither they were bound, and he
told her. Then she counselled him, that when he arose
in the morning he should beat them without mercy. So
when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel,
and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first
falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they
n _. gave him never a word of distaste. Then

Un 1 nursaay i /• n \ r

Giant Despair he falls upon them, and beats them fear-
beats his prisoners .Q

to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This
done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their
misery, and to mourn under their distress : so all that
day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter
lamentations. The next night she, talking with her
husband about them further, and understanding that they
were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make
away themselves. So when morning

On Friday Giant L i_ • i

Despair counsels was come, he goes to them in a surly
selves10 km them" Banner, as before, and perceiving them to
be very sore with the stripes that he had
given them the day before, he told them, that since they
were never like to come out of that place, their only way
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either
with knife, halter, or poison : for why, said he, should
you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much
bitterness ? But they desired him to let them go. With
thai he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had
doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell
The Giant some- int° °ne of his fits (for he sometimes, in
times has fits sunshiny weather, fell into fits), and lost

for a time the use of his hand ; wherefore he withdrew,
and left them as before to consider what to do. Then did
the prisoners consult between themselves, whether 'twas
best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they began to
discourse :

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The

122

DISCOURSE IN THE DUNGEON

life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know

not whether is best to live thus, or die

out of hand. My soul chooseth strangling

rather than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this

dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the giant ?

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and
death would be far more welcome to me than thus for
ever to abide ; but yet let us consider, the Lord of the
country to which we are going hath said, Thou shalt do
no murder, no, not to another man's person ; much more
then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves.
Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon
his body -, but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and
soul at once. And , moreover, my brother, Hopeful comforts
thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but hast him
thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers
go? for no murderer hath eternal life, etc. And let us
consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant
Despair; others, so far as I can understand, have been
taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of
his hand. Who knows but that God, that made the
world, may cause that Giant Despair may die ; or that at
some time or other he may forget to lock us in ; or but he
may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us,
and may lose the use of his limbs ? And if ever that
should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to
pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get
from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to
do it before. But, however, my brother, let's be patient,
and endure a while •, the time may come that may give us
a happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers.
With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the
mind of his brother ; so they continued together in the
dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition.

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the
dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel.
But when he came there, he found them alive ; and truly,
alive was all ; for now, what for want of bread and water,

123

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat
them, they could do little but breathe. But I say, he
found them alive ; at which he fell into a grievous rage,
and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it
should be worse with them than if they had never been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian
fell into a swound ; but coming a little to himself again,
Christian stai they renewed their discourse about the

dejected giant's counsel, and whether yet they had

best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for
doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth :

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not
Hopeful comforts ^ow valiant thou hast been heretofore?
him again by Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could

calling former ifi i j- i i r i •

things to re- all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel m

the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What
hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone
through ! and art thou now nothing but fears ? Thou
seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man
by nature than thou art. Also this giant has wounded
me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and
water from my mouth, and with that I mourn without the
light. But let's exercise a little more patience. Re-
member how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and
wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody
death : wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame that
becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with
patience as well as we can.

Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife
being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and
if they had taken his counsel : to which he replied, They
are sturdy rogues •, they choose rather to bear all hard-
ship than to make away themselves. Then said she, Take
them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the
bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched,
and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end,
thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their
fellows before them.

124

KEY OF PROMISE

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them
again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them
as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims,
as you are, once, and they trespassed in On Saturday the
mv grounds as you have done : and when giant threatened

_ J. ° r t • ' that shortly he

I thought fit I tore them m pieces, and so would puu them
within ten days I will do you ; get you fa pieces
down into your den again. And with that he beat them all
the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday
in a lamentable case, as before. Now when night was come,
and when Mrs Diffidence and her husband, the giant, were
got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their
prisoners ; and withal the old giant wondered, that he
could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an
end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that
they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them ;
or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of
which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear ?
said the giant ; I will therefore search them in the morning.

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray,
and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one
half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech ; What a
fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when
I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a . . . r. .

• t 11 « vh • i «ii A key in cnns-

key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, tian's bosom,
I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting opens uy kick' in
Castle. Then said Hopeful, That's good Doubting Castle
news ; good brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to
try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key,
gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian
and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the out-
ward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his
key opened that door also. After he went to the iron
gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went
desperately hard, yet the key did open it. Then they
thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed ; but

125

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

that gate, as it opened, made such a cracking, that it waked
Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners,
felt his limbs to fail ; for his fits took him again, so that
he could by no means go after them. Then they went on,
and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because
they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now when they were gone over the stile, they began to
contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile,
to prevent those that shall come after from falling into the
A mar erected hands of Giant Despair. So they consented
bypch^istian lad to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon
the side thereof this sentence : Over this
stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant
Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country,
and seeks to destroy the holy pilgrims. Many, therefore,
that followed after, read what was written, and escaped
the danger. This done, they sang as follows :

Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twai to tread upon forbidden ground :
And let them that come after hare a care,
Lest they for trespassing his pris'ners are,
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.

They went then till they came to the Delectable Moun-
The Delectable tains, which mountains belong to the Lord
Mountains of that hill of which we have spoken before.

So they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens
and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water ; where
also they drank and washed themselves,

They are re- t i. • /• 1 r i • i •». T

freshed in the and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now

there were on the tops of these mountains
shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the
highwayside. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them, and
leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims
Talks with the when they stand to talk with any by the
Shepherds way), they asked, Whose delectable moun-

tains are these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon
them ?

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and they
126

THE SHEPHERDS' WELCOME

2re within sight of His city ; and the sheep also are His,
and He laid down His life for them.

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City ?

Shep. You are just in your way.

Chr. How far is it thither ?

Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither
indeed.

Chr. Is the way safe, or dangerous ?

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but
transgressors shall fall therein.

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that
are weary and faint in the way ?

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a
charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers : therefore
the good of the place is before you.

I also saw in my dream, that when the Shepherds per-
ceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions
to them (to which they made answer as in other places),
as, Whence came you ? and, How got you into the way ?
and, By what means have you so persevered therein ? for
but few of them that begin to come hither, do show their
face on these mountains. But when the The Shepherds
Shepherds heard their answers, being welcome them
pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them,
and said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains.

The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Ex-
perience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them The names of
by the hand, and had them to their tents, the Shepherds
and made them partake of that which was ready at present.
They said, moreover, We would that you should stay here
a while, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace
yourselves with the good of these Delectable Mountains.
They then told them, that they were content to stay. And
so they went to their rest that night, because it was very late.

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the
Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with
them upon the mountains. So they went forth with them,
and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every

127

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Bide. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Shall
They are shown we show these pilgrims some wonders?
wonder* go when they had concluded to do it,

they had them first to the top of a hill, called Error,
The mountain which was very steep on the farthest side,

of Error an(j bid them look down to the bottom. So

Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom
several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from
the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? The
Shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that
were made to err, by hearkening to Hymenaeus and
Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of
the body ? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shep-
herds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the
bottom of this mountain are they ; and they have continued
to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others
to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come
too near the brink of this mountain.

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another
M c n ion mountain, and the name of that is Caution,
and bid them look afar orTj which, when
they did, they perceived, as they thought, several men
walking up and down among the tombs that were there ;
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they
stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they
could not get out from among them. Then said Christian,
What meaneth this ?

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little
below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow, on
the left hand of this way ? They answered, Yes. Then
said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that
leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant
Despair ; and these men (pointing to them among the
tombs) came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even
till they came to that same stile. And because the right
way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it
into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair,
and cast into Doubting Castle, where, after they had

128

THE HILL CALLED ERROR

4 They had them first to the top of a hill, called Error, which

was very steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down

to the bottom/

[see p. 128.

A BY-WAY TO HELL

awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put
out their eyes, and led them among those tombs,
where he has left them to wander to this very day,
that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled,
He that wandereth out of the way of understand-
ing shall remain in the congregation of the dead.
Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another,
with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the
Shepherds.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them
to another place in a bottom, where was a door in the
side of a hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them
look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within
it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought that they
heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some
tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone.
Then said Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds
told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way

... . J J , J A by-way to hell

that hypocrites go in at j namely, such as
sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their Master,
with Judas ; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alex-
ander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and
Sapphira his wife.

Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that
these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage,
as we have now ; had they not ?

Shep. Yea, and held it a long time too.

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in
their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably
cast away ?

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these
mountains.

Then said the pilgrims one to another, We have need
to cry to the Strong for strength.

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you
have it, too.

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forwards,
and th e Shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked

129 I

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

together towards the end of the mountains. Then said the

The She herds1 Shepherds one to another, Let us here show

perspective- to the pilgrims the gates of the Celestial

City, if they have skill to look through our

perspective-glass. The pilgrims then lovingly accepted

the motion : so they had them to the top

of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them

the glass to look.

Then they essayed to look ; but the remembrance of that
The fruits of last thing that the Shepherds had showed

servile fear them made their hands shake, by means of

which impediment they could not look steadily through
the glass, yet thought they saw something like the gate,
and also some of the glory of the place. Then they
went away and sang this song :

Thus by the Shepherds secrets are revealed,
Which from all other men are kept concealed:
Come to the Shepherds then, if you would see
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds

gave them a note of the way. Another

of them bid them beware of the Flatterer.

The third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon

the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God

speed. So I awoke from my dream.

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two
pilgrims going down the mountains along the highway
towards the city. Now a little below these mountains on

the left hand lieth the country of Conceit ;

from which country there comes into the

rhioranoee wav *n ™h\ch t^ie pilgr»ms walked, a little

crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met

with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country, and
his name was Ignorance. So Christian

Christian and , . . . c °. .

ignorance have asked him from what parts he came, and
some talk whither he was going.

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there,
130

FOLLY OF IGNORANCE

a little on the left hand, and am going to the Celestial
City.

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate, for
you may find some difficulty there ?

Ignor. As other good people doth, saith he.

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that
may cause that the gate should be opened to you ?

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good
liver : I pay every man his own ; I pray, The grounds of
fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have ignorance's hope
left my country for whither I am going.

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket-gate that
is at the head of this way •, thou earnest in hither through
that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however
thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning-day
shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that thou
art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into
the city.

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me; I
know you not : be content to follow the He teiieth every
religion of your country, and I will follow one he is but a ?°o1
the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for
the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is
a great way off of our country. I cannot think that any
man in all our parts doth so much as know the way to it ;
nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we
have, as you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes
down from our country, the next way into the way.

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own
conceit, he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, There is more
hopes of a fool than of him. And said, moreover, When
he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth
him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool. What,
shall we talk further with him, or outgo HOW to carry it to
him at present, and so leave him to think af°o1
of what he hath heard already, and then stop again for
him afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any
good by him ? Then said Hopeful,

131

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Let Ignorance a little while now muse

On what is said, and let him not refuse

Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain

Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain.

God saith, those that no understanding hare,

(Although He made them,) them He will not save.

Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think, to
say to him all at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and
talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it.

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after.
Now when they had passed him a little way, they entered
into a very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven
devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were carry-
ing him back to the door that they saw on the side
of the hill. Now good Christian began to tremble, and
so did Hopeful, his companion ; yet, as the devils led
away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and
he thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the
The destruction of town of Apostacy. But he did not perfectly
one Turn-away see hjs face> for ne did hang his head

like a thief that is found ; but being gone past, Hopeful
looked after him, and espied on his back a paper,
with this inscription, Wanton professor, and damnable
apostate.

Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to re-
membrance that which was told me of a
thing that happened to a good man here-
le" about. The name of the man was Little-
Faith ; but a good man, and he dwelt in the
town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the entering in
of this passage, there comes down from Broadway-gate a
Broadway-gate, ^ane> called Dead-man's-lane ; so called,
Dead-man's-iane because of the murders that are commonly
done there ; and this Little-Faith, going on pilgrimage, as
we do now, chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now
there happened at that time to come down the lane from
Broadway-gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were
Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt, three brothers ; and they
espying Little-Faith, where he was, came galloping up with

132

LITTLE-FAITH'S TROUBLES

speed. Now the good man was just awaked from his sleep,

and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up

all to him, and with threatening language bid him stand.

At this, Little-Faith looked as white as a clout, and had

neither power to fight nor fly. Then said

Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse ; but he

making no haste to do it (for he was loth Mistrust, and

11. \ •»»• i • Guilt

to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him,

and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence

a bag of silver. Then he cried out.

mi • & i • i ITT. 11 ^ -i .1 They got away his

Thieves, thieves ! With that Guilt, with silver, and
a great club that was in his hand, struck knocked him down
Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him
flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would
bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But
at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and
fearing lest it should be one Great-Grace, that dwells in
the city of Good-Confidence, they betook themselves to
their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself,
who, getting up, made shift to scramble on his way. This
was the story.

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he
had.

Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they never
ransacked ; so those he kept still. But, as I Little-Faith lost
was told, the good man was much afflicted not his best thins»
for his loss ; for the thieves got most of his spending-money.
That which they got not (as I said) were jewels ; also he
had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring
him to his journey's end. Nay (if I was Little-Faith
not misinformed), he was forced to beg as forced to beg to
he went, to keep himself alire, for his
jewels he might not sell ; but beg and do what he could,
he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the most
part of the rest of the way.

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his
certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at
the Celestial gate ?

133

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. 'Tis a wonder; but they got not that, though they
He kept not his missed it not through any good cunning
best things by his of his ; for he being dismayed with their

own cunning . , . L j • i

coming upon him, had neither power nor
skill to hide anything : so 'twas more by good providence
than by his endeavour that they missed of that good
thing.

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort toihim that they
got not his jewels from him.

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he
used it as he should ; but they that told me the story said,
that he made but little use of it all the rest of the way, and
that because of the dismay that he had in the taking away
his money. Indeed he forgot it a great part of the rest of
his journey ; and besides, when at any time it came into
his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then
would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and
those thoughts would swallow up all.
He is pitied by Hope. Alas, poor man, this could not

both but be a great grief unto him.

Chr. Grief ? Ay, a grief indeed ! Would it not have
been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed
and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was ?
'Tis a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart. I
was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way
with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; telling also
to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as
he went, where he was robbed, and how ; who they were
that did it, and what he lost; how he was wounded, and
that he hardly escaped with life.

Hope. But 'tis a wonder that his necessity did not put
him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he
might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey.

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the

Christian snibbeth she11 <° this, Vei7 **J- For what should he

his fellow for unad- pawn them i or to wnomsnould he sell them r

In all that country where he was robbed,

his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief

'34

DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH

which could from thence be administered to him. Besides,
had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City,
he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from
an inheritance there, and that would have been worse
to him than the appearance and villainy of ten thousand
thieves.

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold
his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage ; and that
birthright was his greatest jewel ; and if he, why might
not Little-Faith do so too ?

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do
many besides, and by so doing exclude A discourse ab0ut
themselves from the chief blessing, as also Esau and Littie-
that caitiff did ; but you must put a differ-
ence betwixt Esau and Little-Faith, and also betwixt their
estates. Esau's birthright was typical ; but Little-Faith's
jewels were not so. Esau's belly was his Esau was ruled
god ; but Little-Faith's belly was not so. br his lusts
Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite ; Little-Faith's did
not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the
fulfilling of his lusts; For I am at the point to die,
said he ; and what good will this birthright do me ?
But Little-Faith, though it was his lot to have but a
little faith, was by his little faith kept from such extrava-
gances, and made to see and prize his jewels more than to
sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not any-
M here that Esau had faith, no, not so much Esau never had
as a little ; therefore no marvel, if, where faitn
the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no
faith is to resist), if he sells his birthright, and his soul
and all, and that to the devil of hell ; for it is with
such as it is with the ass, who in her occasion cannot
be turned away. When their minds are set upon their
lust, they will have them, whatever they cost : but Little-
Faith was of another temper : his mind was

.. ... i. i. ri.i , Little-Faith could

on things divine; his livelihood was upon not Hye upon
things that were spiritual and above; Esau>s potta*e
therefore to what end should he that is of such a temper

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought
them), to fill his mind with empty things ? Will a man
give a penny to fill his belly with hay ? or can you per-
suade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion.

A comparison be- , . , . _,, , r • * , ,

tween the turtle- like the crow r 1 hough faithless ones

dove and the crow caQ^ £Qr carnaj lusts> pawn, Or mortgage,

or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot ;
yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little
of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy
mistake.

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection
had almost made me angry.

Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds
that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in
untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads : but pass
by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall
be well betwixt thee and me.

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am per-

i wa ers sua^ec^ m mv heart, are but a company of

cowards : would they have run else, think

you, as they did at the noise of one that was coming on

the road ? Why did not Little-Faith pluck up a greater

heart ? He might, methinks, have stood one brush

with them, and have yielded when there had been no

remedy.

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but few
have found it so in the time of trial. As

No great heart for - T . . ^ . , , ,

God where there is for a great heart, Little- faith hath none ;

and I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst
thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and
then to yield. And, verily, since this is the height of thy

stomach now they are at a distance from
Z*S!3£ us, should they appear to thee, as they

w^'areln WheD ^ tO ^im> ^7 m^ght put thee tO SCCOnd

thoughts.

But consider again, they are but journeymen thieves;
they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if
need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his

ENTANGLED IN THE NET

* At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a
whip of small cord in his hand.'

[see p. 140.

DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH

voice is as the roaring of a lion. I myself have been
engaged as this Little-Faith was, and I found it a terrible
thing. These three villains set upon me, Christian tells his
and I beginning like a Christian to resist, own experience
they gave but a call, and in came their
master. I would (as the saying is) have given my life for
a penny, but that, as God would have it, I was clothed
with armour of proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so
harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man ;
no man can tell what in that combat attends us, but he
that hath been in the battle himself.

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did
but suppose that one Great-Grace was in the way.

Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their
master, when Great-Grace hath but appeared ; and no
marvel, for he is the King's champion. The King's cham-
But I trow, you will put some difference Pion
between Little-Faith and the King's champion. All the
King's subjects are not His champions ; nor can they, when
tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that
a little child should handle Goliath as David did ? or that
there should be the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some
are strong, some are weak ; some have great faith, some
have little : this man was one of the weak, and therefore
went to the walls.

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace for their
sakes.

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full;
for I must tell you, that though Great-Grace is excellent
good at his weapon, and has, and can, so long as he
keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them ;
yet if they get within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or
the other, it shall go hard but that they will throw up
his heels. And when a man is down, you know, what
can he do ?

Whoso looks well upon Great-Grace's face, shall see
those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give de-
monstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he

'37

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

should say (and that when he was in the combat), We
despaired even of life. How did these sturdy rogues
and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar !
Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah too, though champions in
their days, were forced to bestir them, when by these
assaulted ; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their
coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time,
would go try what he could do ; but though some do
say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they
handled him so that they made him at last afraid of a
sorry girl.

Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is never out
of hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the worst,
he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of him it is
Leviathan's said, The sword of him that layeth at

sturdiness him cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor

the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as
rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling-
stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are
counted as stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a
spear. What can a man do in this case ? 'Tis true,
if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and
had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable
_. things. For his neck is clothed with

The excellent ° r .

mettle that is in thunder. He will not be afraid as the
Jobs grasshopper: the glory of his nostrils is

terrible. He paweth in the valley, rejoiceth in his
strength, and goeth out to meet the armed men. He
mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth
back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him,
the glittering spear and the shield. He swallows the
ground with fierceness and rage ; neither believes he
that it is the sound of the trumpet. He says among
the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle
afar off, the thundering of the captains, and the
shoutings.

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never
desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do

138

DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH

better, when we hear of others that they have been foiled,
nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood ; for such
commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter,
of whom I made mention before ; he would swagger, ay,
he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to
say, do better, and stand more for his Master, than all
men ; but, who so foiled and run down by these villains
as he ?

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done
on the King's highway, two things become us to do.

First, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield
with us ; for it was for want of that, that he that laid so
lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield ; for, indeed,
if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he
that hath skill hath said, Above all, take the shield of
faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery
darts of the wicked.

'Tis good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy,
yea, that He will go with us Himself, "ns g0od to have
This made David rejoice when in the a convoy
Valley of the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather
for dying where he stood, than to go one step without
his God. O my brother, if He will but go along with
us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall
set themselves against us ? But without Him, the proud
helpers fall under the slain.

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and
though (through the goodness of Him that is best) I am,
as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of any manhood. Glad
shall I be if I meet with no more such brunts ; though I
fear we are not got beyond all danger. However, since
the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope
God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised
Philistines. Then sang Christian,

Poor Little-Faith! hast been among the thieves?
Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso believes,
And get more faith; then shall you victors be
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three.

139

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went
then till they came at a place where they

A way and a way • ir • L • j

saw a way put itselr into their way, and
seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they
should go ; and here they knew not which of the two to
take, for both seemed straight betore them; therefore
here they stood still to consider. And as they were think-
ing about the way, behold, a man black of flesh, but covered
The Flatterer wit^ a verY light robe, came to them,

finds them an(j asked them why they stood there.

They answered, they were going to the Celestial City,
but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow
me, said the man ; it is thither that I am going. So
they followed him in the way that but now came into
Christian and his the road, which by degrees turned, and
fellow deluded turned them so from the city that they
desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned
away from it ; yet they followed him. But by and by,
They are taken in before they were aware, he led them both
anet within the compass of a net, in which they

were both so entangled that they knew not what to do ;
and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back.
Then they saw where they were. Wherefore there they
lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves
out.

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see
They bewail their myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds
condition bid us beware of the Flatterers ? As is the

saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day : A
man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his foot.

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about
the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein
we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves
from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser
than we ; for, saith he, Concerning the works of men, by
the word of Thy lips I have kept me from the paths
of the destroyer. Thus they lay bewailing themselves
in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming

140

A SHINING ONE

toward them with a whip of small cord in his hand.
When he was come to the place where AShiningOne
they were, he asked them whence they comes to them with
came, and what they did there. They told
him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were
led out of their way by a black man clothed in white,
who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going
thither too. Then said he with the whip, It is a
Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself
into an angel of light. So he rent the net, and let the
men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may
set you in your way again. So he led them back to the
way which they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he
asked them, saying, Where did you lie the
last night ? They said, With the Shepherds JmhTed,rInd"con-
upon the Delectable Mountain. He asked jj£ed o£ foreetfui-
them then if they had not a note of those
Shepherds of direction for the way. They answered,
Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand,
pluck out and read your note ? They answered, No. He
asked them, Why ? They said they forgot. He asked,
moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of
the Flatterer. They answered, Yes ; but Deceivers fine
we did not imagine, said they, that this «poken
fine-spoken man had been he.

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to
lie down; which when they did, he -,,

, , , , * . They are whipped,

chastised them sore, to teach them the and sent on their
good way wherein they should walk ;
and as he chastised them, he said, As many as I love I
rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, and repent.
This done, he bids them go on their way, and take good
heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they
thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along
the right way, singing :

Come hither, you that walk along the way,
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray :
They catched are in an entangling net,
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

'Tii true they rescued were ; but yet, you see,
They're scourged to boot : let this your caution be.

Now after a while they perceived afar off one coming
softly, and alone, all along the highway to meet them.
Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man
with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to
meet us.

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now,
The Atheist meets lfist he should prove a flatterer also. So
them he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came

up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them
whither they were going.

Chr. We are going to the Mount Zion.

Then Atheist fell into a very great
H,uu«*satthem laughter.

Chr. What's the meaning of your laughter ?

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are,
to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are like to
have nothing but your travel for your pains.
They reason Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall

together not ^e received ?

Atheist. Received ! There is not such place as you
dream of in all this world.

Chr. But there is in the world to come.

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country,
I heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went
out to see, and have been seeking this city twenty
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I
set out.

Chr. We have both heard, and believe, that there is
such a place to be found.

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had
-n. A*. • ** u not come t*1118 far to seek; but finding

The Atneist takes / . T1 •«•_«« ,°

up his content in none (and yet I should, had there been
this world ^^ a pjace to ^e {oundy for I have gone

to seek it farther than you), I am going back again, and
will seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast
away for hopes of that which I now see is not.

142

THE ENCHANTED GROUND

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his com-
panion, Is it true which this man has Christian pro-

Said ? voketh his brother

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers. Re-
member what it has cost us once already Hopeful's gracious
for our hearkening to such kind of fellows, answer
What ! No Mount Zion ? Did we not see from the
Delectable Mountains the gate of the city ? Also, are we
not now to walk by faith ? Let us go on, said Hopeful,
lest the man with the whip overtake us A remembrance of
again. You should have taught me that former chastise-

. ° i • i T • 1 1 i « i ments is a help

lesson, which 1 will round you m the ears against present
withal: Cease, my son, to hear the in- temPtatlons
struction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge,
I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to
the saving of the soul.

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee,
for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but
to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a A fruit of an honest
fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for heart
this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have
belief of the truth, and no lie is of the truth.

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at
them, went his way.

I saw then in my dream, that they went on till they
came into a certain country, whose air

,, , , , J . They are come to

naturally tended to make one drowsy, the Enchanted
if he came a stranger into it. And here round
Hopeful began to be very dull, and heavy of sleep ; where-
fore he said unto Christian, I now begin Hopeful begins to
to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold be drowsy
up mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap.

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest Christian keeps
sleeping we never awake more. him awake

Hope. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the labour-
ing man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap.

'43

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid
us beware of the Enchanted Ground? He meant by that, that
we should beware of sleeping ; wherefore let us not sleep
as do others, but let us watch and be sober.

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been

here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger

Hope is thankful of death. I see it is true that the wise man

con$aniSon*hip saith, Two are better than one. Hitherto

hath thy company been my mercy, and thou

shalt have a good reward for thy labour.

Good discourse Chr. Now, then, said Christian, to

drowsiness prevent drowsiness in this place, let us

fall into good discourse.
Hope. With all my heart, said the other.
Chr. Where shall we begin ?

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin,
if you please.

Chr. I will sing you first this song.

When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,
The Dreamer's An(j hear how these two pilgrims talk together:
Yea let them learn of them in any wise,
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumb'ring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be mananged well,
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.

They begin at the r~ Christian began, and said,

beginning of their I will ask you a question. How came you
to think at first of doing what you do now ?

Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after
the good of my soul.

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning.

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those
things which were seen and sold at our fair ; things which
I believe now would have, had I continued in them still,
drowned me in perdition and destruction.

Chr. What things are they ?

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world.
Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking,
swearing, lying, uncleanness, sabbath-breaking, and what
not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last,

144

HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION

by hearing and considering of things that are divine,
which, indeed, I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful,
that was put to death for his faith and good living in
Vanity Fair, that the end of these things is death •, and
that for these things' sake the wrath of God cometh
upon the children of disobedience.

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of
this conviction ?

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil
of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon

... r • L j j Hopeful at first

the commission of it j but endeavoured, shut his eyes
when my mind at first began to be shaken a*ainst the u*ht
with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof.

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it
thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon
you ?

Hope. The causes were, i. I was ignorant that this
was the work of God upon me. I never Reasons of the
thought that by awakenings for sin, God resisting of light
at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet
very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I
could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their
presence and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The
hours in which convictions were upon me, were such trouble-
some and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear,
no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your
trouble ?

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind
again ; and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I
was before.

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind
again ?

Hope. Many things ; as,

1. If I did but meet a good man in the ™s^nseofasdin?st

Street ; Or, wha.t brought it

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or,

3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or,

145 K

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were
sick ; or,

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or,

6. If I thought of dying myself; or,

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others.

8. But especially when I thought of myself, that I must
quickly come to judgment.

Chr. And could you at any time with ease get off the
guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ?

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of my
conscience ; and then, if I did but think of going back to
sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would be
double torment to me.

Chr. And how did you do then ?

Hope. I thought I must endeavour

When he could no i • r i i ITT

longer shake off to mend my lire ; or else, thought 1, 1 am

SLSS t&fhe1 sure to be damned.

endeavours to Chr. And did you endeavour to

mend . , J

amend r

Hope. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful
company too, and betook me to religious duties ; as praying,
reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours,
etc. These things did I with many other, too much here
to relate.

Chr. And did you think yourself well then ?

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble
Then he thought came tumbling upon me again, and that
himself well Over the neck of all my reformation.

Chr. How came that about, since you were now
reformed ?

Hope. There were several things brought it upon me,
especially such sayings as these : All our

Reformation at . r. J ci i TJ

last could not help, righteousness are as filthy rags. By
and why the works of the law shall no flesh

be justified. When ye have done all those things, say,
We are unprofitable, with many more such like. From
whence I began to reason with myself thus : If all
my righteousnesses are filthy rags, if by the deeds of

146

HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION

the law no man can be justified, and if, when we
have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then 'tis but a
folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought
thus : If a man runs a hundred pounds into „. . .

i 11 ». • i i r i i 11 His being- a debtor

the shopkeepers debt, and after that shall by the law
pay for all that he shall fetch; yet if this old
debt stand still in the book uncrossed, the shopkeeper may
sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt.

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself?

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself; I have by
my sins run a great way into God's book, and that my now
reforming will not pay off that score. Therefore I should
sink still, under all my present amendments. But how shall
I be freed from that damnation that I brought myself in
danger of by my former transgressions ?

Chr. A very good application : but pray go on.

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even
since my late amendments, is, that if I look
narrowly into the best of what I do now, 5ln|l uThi* best
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with jj|£ies troubled
the best of that I do ; so that now I am
forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond
conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough
in one day to send me to hell, though my former life had
been faultless.

Chr. And what did you do then ?

Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, till I brake
my mind to Faithful ; for he and I were This made him
well acquainted. And he told me, that pra£hfuiSwhodto?d
unless I could obtain the righteousness of him the way to be
a man that never had sinned, neither mine save
own, nor all the righteousness of the world, could save me.

Chr. And did you think he spake true ?

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and
satisfied with mine own amendment, I had called him fool
for his pains ; but now, since I see mine own infirmity, and
the sin that cleaves to my best performance, I have been
forced to be of his opinion.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested
it to you, that there was such a man to be found, of
whom it might justly be said that he never committed
sin?

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded
At which he strangely ; but after a little more talk and

started at present company with him, I had full conviction
about it.

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and
how you must be justified by him ?

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that
A more particular ^weUeth on the right hand of the Most
discovery of the High. And thus, said he, you must
be justified by Him, even by trusting
to what He hath done by Himself in the days of His
flesh, and suffered when He did hang on the tree.
I asked him further, how that Man's righteousness could
be of that efficacy to justify another before God. And
he told me He was the mighty God, and did what He
did, and died the death also not for Himself, but for me;
to whom His doings, and the worthiness of them, should
be imputed, if I believed on Him.

Chr. And what did you do then ?

Hope. I made my objections against my believing,
He doubts of ac- f°r that I thought He was not willing to

ceptation save mCi

Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ?

Hope. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said
He is better in- it: was presumption. He said, No j for I
structed was invited to come. Then he gave me

a book of Jesus His inditing, to encourage me the more
freely to come ; and he said concerning that book, that
every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven
and earth. Then I asked him what I must do when
I came ; and he told me, I must entreat upon my knees,
with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal Him
to me. Then I asked him further, how I must make
my supplication to Him ; and he said, Go, and thou

HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION

shalt find Him upon a mercy-seat, where He sits, all
the year long, to give pardon and forgiveness to them
that come. I told him, that I knew not what to say
when I came; and he bid me say to

, . ff. J , , , .(• , ' He is bid to pray

this effect : God be merciful to me a
sinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ ;
for I see, that if His righteousness had not been, or
I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast
away. Lord, I have heard that Thou art a merciful God,
and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be
the Saviour of the world ; and moreover, that Thou art
willing to bestow Him upon such a poor sinner as I
am. And I am a sinner indeed. Lord, take there-
fore this opportunity, and magnify Thy grace in the
salvation of my soul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ
Amen.

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden ?

Hope. Yes, over, and over, and

Chr. And did the Father reveal His Son to you ?

Hope. No, not at the first, nor second, nor third,
nor fourth, nor fifth, no, nor at the sixth time
neither.

Chr. What did you do then ?

Hope. What ? why I could not tell what to do.

Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying ?

Hope. Yes; a hundred times twice HO thought to

told. leave off prayingr

Chr. And what was the reason you did not ?

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been
told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this
Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore,

thought I With myself, if I leave off, I He durst not leave

die, and 1 can but die at the throne or off praying, and
grace. And withal this came into my
mind, If it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely
come, and will not tarry. So I continued praying, until
the Father showed me His Son.

149

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. And how was He revealed unto you ?

Hope. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but
Christ is revealed wi*h the eyes of mine understanding,
to him, and how an(j tnus jt was< Qne day I was very

sad, I think sadder than at any one time in my life ;
and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the
greatness and vileness of my sins. And as I was then
looking for nothing but hell, and the everlasting damna-
tion of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord
Jesus looking down from heaven upon me, and saying,
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved.

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner :
and He answered, My grace is sufficient for thee.
Then I said, But, Lord, what is believing ? And then
I saw from that saying, He that cometh to Me shall
never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never
thirst, that believing and coming was all one ; and that
he that came, that is, that ran out in his heart and
affections after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed
in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and
I asked further, But, Lord, may such a great sinner as
I am be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved by
Thee ? And I heard Him say, And him that cometh
to Me I will in no wise cast out. Then I said, But
how, Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming to
Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee ?
Then He said, Christ Jesus came into the world to
save sinners. He is the end of the law for righteous-
ness to every one that believes. He died for our sins,
and rose again for our justification. He loved us, and
washed us from our sins in His own blood. He is
Mediator betwixt God and us. He ever liveth to
make intercession for us. From all which I gathered,
that I must look for righteousness in His person,
and for satisfaction for my sins by His blood : that
what He did in obedience to His Father's law, and
in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Him-

150

HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION
4 Lord, I am a greatt a very great sinner/

[see p. 150.

IGNORANCE AGAIN

self, but for him that will accept it for his salvation,
and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy,
mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections running
over with love to the name, people, and ways of Jesus
Christ.

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul
indeed. But tell me particularly what effect this had
upon your spirit.

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwith-
standing all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of
condemnation. It made me see that God the Father,
though He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner.
It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former
life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own
ignorance ; for there never came thought into my heart
before now that showed me so the beauty of Jesus
Christ. It made me love a holy life, and Jong to do
something for the honour and glory of the Lord Jesus.
Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of
blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the
Lord Jesus.

I saw then in my dream, that Hopeful looked back,
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming
after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder
youngster loitereth behind.

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our company.

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he
kept pace with us hitherto.

Chr. That's true; but I warrant you he thinketh
otherwise.

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us
tarry for him. So they did.

Then Christian said to him, Come away, Young ignorance
man ; why do you stay so behind ? comes UP a#ain

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even
more a great deal than in company, unless

T ... . &, , r Jt Their talk

I like it the better.

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

tell you he cared not for our company ? But however,
said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this
solitary place. Then, directing his speech to Ignorance,
he said, Come, how do you do ? How stands it between
God and your soul now ?

Ignorance-shone, . *«*?*• ] H°P?> Wellj f°r T ain. alwaVS

and the ground full or good motions, that come into my
mind to comfort me as I walk.

Chr. What good motions ? pray tell us.

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven.

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls.

Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them.

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there.
The soul of the sluggard desires, and hath nothing.

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

Chr. That I doubt; for leaving of all is a hard
matter ; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of.
But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast
left all for God and heaven ?

Ignor. My heart tells me so.

Chr. The wise man says, He that trusts his own heart
is a fool.

Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine is
a good one.

Chr. But how dost thou prove that ?

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven.

Chr. That may be through its deceitful ness ; for
a man's heart may minister comfort to him in the
hopes of that thing for which he has yet no ground to
hope.

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together; and
therefore my hope is well grounded.

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree
together ?

Ignor. My heart tells me so.

Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a thief. Thy heart
tells thee so ! Except the word of God beareth witness
in this matter, other testimony is of no value.

152

CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that has good
thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is according to
God's commandments ?

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts,
and that is a good life that is according to God's com-
mandments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and
another thing only to think so.

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a
life according to God's commandments ?

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds ; —
some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and
some other things.

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ?

Chr. Such as agree with the word of what are good

God thoughts?

Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with
the word of God ?

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves
which the word passes. To explain myself: the word of
God saith of persons in a natural condition, There is
none righteous, there is none that doeth good. It saith
also, that every imagination of the heart of man is only
evil, and that continually. And again, The imagina-
tion of man's heart is evil from his youth. Now, then,
when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof,
then are our thoughts good ones, because according to
the word of God.

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus
bad.

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought
concerning thyself in thy life. — But let me go on. As
the word passeth a judgment upon our hearts, so it passeth
a judgment upon our ways ; and when our thoughts of
our hearts and ways agree with the judgment which the
words giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing
thereto.

Ignor. Make out your meaning.

Chr. Why, the word of God saith, that man's ways

153

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

are crooked ways, not good, but perverse ; it saith, they
are naturally out of the good way, that they have not
known it. Now when a man thus thinketh of his ways,
I say when he doth sensibly, and with heart-humiliation,
thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways,
because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the
word of God.

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God ?

Chr. Even, as I have said concerning ourselves, when
our thoughts of God do agree with what the word saith
of Him ; and that is, when we think of His being and
attributes as the word hath taught ; of which I cannot
now discourse at large. But to speak of Him in
reference to us : then we have right thoughts of God
when we think that He knows us better than we know
ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we can
see none in ourselves: when we think He knows our inmost
thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always
open unto His eyes ; also when we think that all our
righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that therefore He
cannot abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence,
even in all our best performances.

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think
God can see no further than I ; or that I would come to
God in the best of my performances ?

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter ?

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in
Christ for justification.

Chr. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when
thou seest not thy need of Him ! Thou neither seest
thy original nor actual infirmities ; but hast such
an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest, as
plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a
necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify
thee before God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe
in Christ ?

Ignor. I believe well enough for all that.

Chr. How dost thou believe?

154

CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners ; and that
I shall be justified before God from the The faith of
curse, through His gracious acceptance of ignorance
my obedience to His Jaw. Or thus, Christ makes my
duties, that are religious, acceptable to His Father by
virtue of His merits, and so shall I be justified.

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of
thy faith:

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith j for this
faith is nowhere described in the word.

2. Thou believest with a false faith ; because it taketh
justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and
applies it to thy own.

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person,
but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake,
which is false.

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will
leave thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty : for
true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost
condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's
righteousness (which righteousness of His is not an act
of grace by which He maketh, for justification, thy
obedience accepted with God, but His personal obedience
to the law, in doing and suffering for us what that required
at our hands); this righteousness, I say, true faith
accepteth; under the skirt of which the soul being
shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is
accepted, and acquit from condemnation.

Ignor. What ! would you have us trust to what
Christ in His own person has done without us? This
conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate
us to live as we list : for what matter how we live, if we
may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from
all, when we believe it ?

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art
thou : even this thy answer demonstrated what I say.
Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and
as ignorant how to secure thy soul through the faith of it,

155

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant
of the true effects of saving faith in this righteousness
of Christ, which is to bow and win over the heart to God
in Christ, to love His name, His word, ways, and people,
and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him
from heaven.

Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I
ignorance jangles believe, that what both you and all the
with them rest of you say about that matter, is but

the fruit of distracted brains.

Hope. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the
natural apprehensions of all flesh, that He cannot by any
man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals
Him to them.

Ignor. This is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, I
He speaks re- doubt not, is as good as yours, though I

wrh°atCheUkm)ws ^aVC nOt m my ^Cad SO man7 whimsies ES

not you.

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought
not so slightly to speak of this matter; for this I will
boldly affirm (even as my good companion hath done),
that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation
of the Father : yea, and faith too, by which the soul
layeth hold upon Christ (if it be right), must be
wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty
power; the working of which faith, I perceive, poor
Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened then, see
thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ;
and by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of
God (for He Himself is God), thou shalt be delivered
from condemnation.

Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with
The talk broke vou > do you g° on before : I must stay
UP awhile behind.

Then they said —

Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be,
To slight good counsel, ten times giren thee?
156

CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL

And if thou yet refuse it, thou ihait know
Ere long the evil of thy doing so.
Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear ;
Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore hear.
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee.

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow : —

Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that
thou and I must walk by ourselves again.

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before,
and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian
to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man : it
will certainly go ill with him at last.

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in this
condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of
pilgrims too ; and if there be so many in our parts, how
many, think you, must there be in the place where he was
born ?

Chr. Indeed, the word saith, he hath blinded their
eyes, lest they should see, etc.

But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such
men ? have they at no time, think you, conviction of sin,
and so consequently fear that their state is dangerous ?

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for
you are the elder man.

Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may ;
but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that
such convictions tend to their good j and therefore they
do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously con-
tinue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts.

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much
to men's good, and to make them right at The good use of
their beginning to go on pilgrimage. fear

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right : for so
says the word, The fear of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom.

Hope. How will you describe right fear ?

Chr. True or right fear is discovered

• . i . Right fears

by three things :

157

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

1. By its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for sin.

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for
salvation.

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great rever-
ence of God, His word, and ways ; keeping it tender, and
making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or
to the left, to any thing that may dishonour God, break
its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak
reproachfully.

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth.
Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground ?

Chr. Why ? art thou weary of this discourse ?

Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we
are.

Chr. We have not now above two miles farther to go
thereon. — But let us return to our matter.

Now the ignorant know not that such convictions that
tend to put them in fear, are for their

Why ignorant . r. , - . _

persons stifle good, and therefore they seek to stifle

convictions ^^

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ?

Chr. I. They think that those fears are wrought by
the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God), and,
thinking so, they resist them, as things that directly tend
to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears
tend to the spoiling of their faith ; when, alas for them,
poor men that they are, they have none at all ! and there-
fore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They pre-
sume they ought not to fear, and therefore in despite of
them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that
those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-
holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their might.

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I
knew myself it was so with me.

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour
Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable
question.

Hope. With all my heart ; but you shall still begin.

158

ONE TEMPORARY

Chr. Well, then, did you know, about ten years ago,
one Temporary in your parts, who was a Talk about one
forward man in religion then ? Temporary

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town
about two miles off of Honesty, and he

, »r« i_ i Where he dwelt

dwelt next door to one 1 urnback.

Chr. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof with him.
Well, that man was much awakened once : He was
I believe that then he had some sight of towardiyonce
his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto.

Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being
above three miles from him) he would ofttimes come to
me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man,
and was not altogether without hope of him : but one may
see, it is not every one that cries, Lord, Lord !

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on
pilgrimage, as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew
acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a
stranger to me.

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a
little inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of
him and such others.

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin.

Hope. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four
reasons for it :

I. Though the consciences of such men are awakened,
yet their minds are not changed: therefore, Reasons wh
when the power of guilt weareth away, towardiy ones
that which provoketh them to be religious
ceaseth; wherefore they naturally return to their own course
again ; even as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath
eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts
up all ; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say
a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach :
but now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach
eased, his desires being not at all alienated from his vomit,
he turns him about, and licks up all ; and so it is true which
is written, The dog is turned to his own vomit again.

159

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

This, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the
sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense of
hell and the fears of damnation chills and cools, so their
desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes
to pass, that when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires
for heaven and happiness die, and they return to their
course again.

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do
overmaster them : I speak now of the fears that they
have of men: For the fear of man bringeth a snare.
So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven
so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet,
when that terror is a little over, they betake them-
selves to second thoughts, namely, that 'tis good to be
wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard
of losing all, or at least of bringing themselves into
unavoidable and unnecessary troubles ; and so they fall in
with the world again.

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block
in their way : they are proud and haughty, and religion in
their eyes is low and contemptible : therefore when they
have lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they
return again to their former course.

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them ;
they like not to see their misery before they come into it ;
though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that
sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly, and
are safe ; but because they do, as I hinted before, even
shun the thoughts of guilt and terror; therefore, when
once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors
and wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and
choose such ways as will harden them more and more.

Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom
of all is for want of a change in their mind and will. And
therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before the
judge : he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most
heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter;
not that he hath any detestation of the offences as is evident ;

160

ONE TEMPORARY

because let but this man hare his liberty, and he will be
a thief, and so a rogue still ; whereas, if his mind was
changed, he would be otherwise.

Hope. Now I hare showed you the reasons of their
going back, do you show me the manner thereof.

Chr. So I will willingly :

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may,
from the remembrance of God, death, and How ^ apostate
judgment to come. s06* *****

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as
closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for
sin, and the like.

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm
Christians.

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty ; as
hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like.

5. They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the
coats of some of the godly, and that devilishly, that they
may have a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of
some infirmity they have spied in them) behind their backs.

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate them-
selves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men.

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses
in secret ; and glad are they if they can see such things in
any that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly
do it through their example.

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly.

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as
they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of
misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever-
lastingly perish in their own deceivings.

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the
pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and
entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was
very sweet and pleasant ; the way lying directly through
it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea,
here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw
every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard

161 L

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the
sun shineth night and day : wherefore this was beyond the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach
of Giant Despair ; neither could they from this place so
much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within
sight of the City they were going to : also here met them
some of the inhabitants thereof ; for in this
land the shining ones commonly walked,
because it was upon the borders of heaven. In this land
also the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom
was renewed ; yea, here, as the bridegroom rejoiceth
over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them.
Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place
they met with abundance of what they had sought for in
all their pilgrimages. Here they heard voices from out
of the City, loud voices, saying, Say ye to the daughter
of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, His
reward is with Him! Here all the inhabitants of the
country called them, the holy people, the redeemed of
the Lord, sought out, etc.

Now, as they walked this land, they had more rejoicing
than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which
they were bound ; and drawing near to the City, they
had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded
of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was
paved with gold ; so that, by reason of the natural glory
of the City, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it,
Christian with desire fell sick ; Hopeful also had a fit or
two of the same disease : wherefore here they lay by it
awhile, crying out because of their pangs, If you see my
Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love.

But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear
their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet
nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now,
as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener
stood in the way; to whom the pilgrims said, Whose
goodly vineyards and gardens are these ? He answered,

162

THEY REACH THE RIVER

They are the King's, and are planted here for His own
delights, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the
gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh
themselves with the dainties ; he also showed them there
the King's walks and the arbours, where He delighted
to be : and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in
their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their
journey; and, being in a muse thereabout, the gardener
said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the matter ?
it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards
to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that
are asleep to speak.

So I saw that when they awoke they addressed them-
selves to go up to the City. But, as I said, the reflection
of the sun upon the City (for the City was pure gold),
was so extremely glorious, that they could not as yet
with open face behold it, but through an instrument made
for that purpose. So I saw, that as they went on, there
met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also
their faces shone as the light.

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came, and
they told them. They also asked them where they had
lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and
pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told them.
Then said the men that met them, You have but two
difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City.

Christian then and his companion asked the men to go
along with them : so they told them they would ; But, said
they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in
my dream that they went on together till they came in
sight of the gate.

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was
a river; but there was no bridge to go
over ; and the river was very deep. At
the sight therefore of this river the pilgrims were much
stunned ; but the men that went with them said, You must
go through or you cannot come at the gate.

163

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

The pilgrims then began to inquire, if there was no other
way to the gate. To which they answered, Yes ; but
there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah,
been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of
the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound.
The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond
in his mind, and looked this way and that, but no way
Death is not wei- could be found by them by which they

CSCaPe the river-

pass out of this the men if the waters were all of a depth.

Id into glory

them in that CaSC 5 F°r» Said

through death shall find it deeper or shallower as you

believe in the King of the place.

They then addressed themselves to the water, and
entering, Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his
good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters ; the
billows go over my head, all His waves go over me. Selah.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother : I
feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah !
my friend, the sorrows of death hath compassed me about,

Christian's con * S^a^ DOt SeC t^C ^U^ t^iat ^OWS W^

flic"at the8 hour of milk and honey. And with that a great
darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so
that he could not see before him. Also here he in great
measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember
nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he
had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the
words that he spake still tended to discover that he had
horror of mind, and hearty fears that he should die in that
river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also,
as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the trouble-
some thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since
and before he began to be a pilgrim. 'Twas also observed,
that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and
evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would intimate so much
by words.

Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother's
164

CROSSING THE RIVER

'Hopeful also would endeavour to comfoit him, saying,
Brother, I see the gate/

[seep. 165.

THEY GET OVER

head above water ; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone
down, and then, ere awhile, he would rise up again half
dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him,
saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by it to
receive us ; but Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you
they wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you.
And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother, said
he, surely if I was right He would now arise to help me ;
but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath
left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite
forgot the text where it is said of the wicked, There is
no band in their death, but their strength is firm ; they are
not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like
other men. These troubles and distresses that you go
through in these waters, are no sign that God hath for-
saken you ; but are sent to try you, whether you will call
to mind that which heretofore you have received of His
goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses.

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a muse
awhile. To whom also Hopeful added these words, Be of
good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And with
that Christian brake out with a loud voice, Oh, I see Him
again; and He tells me, When thou

& i , , , .„* . Christian de-

passest through the waters, I will be Hvered from his
with thee-, and through the rivers, they fearsindeath
shall not overflow thee. Then they both took courage,
and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until
they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found
ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest
of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over.

Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they
saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them.
Wherefore being come out of the river, they saluted them,
saying, We are ministering spirits, sent Thean?elsdo
forth to minister for those that shall be wait for them so
heirs of salvation. Thus they went along
towards the gate. world

Now you must note, that the City stood upon a mighty

165

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because
they had these two men to lead them up by the arms :
They have put ^so they had left their mortal garments
off mortality behind them in the river ; for though they

went in with them, they came out without them. They
therefore went up here with much agility and speed,
though the foundation upon which the City was framed
was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up
through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they
went, being comforted because they safely got over the
river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

The talk that they had with the shining ones was about
the glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and
glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the
Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable
company of angels, and the spirits of just men made
perfect. You are going now, said they, to the paradise
of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and
eat of the never-fading fruits thereof: and when you
come there you shall have white robes given you, and
your walk and talk shall be every day with the King,
even all the days of eternity. There you shall not see
again such things as you saw when you were in the lower
region upon the earth : to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction,
and death ; For the former things are passed away.
You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob,
and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away
from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon
their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The
men then asked, What must we do in the holy place ?
To whom it was answered, You must there receive the
comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your
sorrow ; you must reap what you have sown, even the
fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for
the King by the way. In that place you must wear
crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and
visions of the Holy One ; for there you shall see Him
as He is. There also you shall serve Him continually

1 66

THE WELCOME OF ANGELS

with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you
desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty,
because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your
eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with
hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There
you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone thither
before you ; and there you shall with joy receive even
every one that follows into the holy place after you.
There also you shall be clothed with glory and majesty,
and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King
of Glory. When He shall come with sound of trumpet
in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you
shall come with Him ; and when He shall sit upon the
throne of judgment, you shall sit by Him ; yea, and when
He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let
them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that
judgment because they were His and your enemies. Also,
when He shall again return to the City, you shall go too
with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him.

Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate,
behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet
them ; to whom it was said by the other two shining one»s,
These are the men that have loved our Lord, when they
were in the world, and that have left all for His holy
name ; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have
brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they
may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy.
Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying,
Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of
the Lamb. There came out also at this time to meet
them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white
and shining raiment, who with melodious noises and loud
made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These
trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten
thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did
with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side ;
some went before, some behind, and some on the right

167

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

hand, some on the left (as 'twere to guard them through
the upper regions), continually sounding as they went,
with melodious noise, in notes on high ; so that the very
sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself
was come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked
on together; and, as they walked, ever and anon these
trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing
their music with looks and gestures, still signify to
Christian and his brother how welcome they were into
their company, and with what gladness they came to meet
them. And now were these two men, as 'twere, in heaven,
before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of
angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here
also they had the City itself in view ; and they thought
they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them
thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts
that they had about their own dwelling there with such
company, and that for ever and ever, oh, by what tongue
or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ! — Thus they
came up to the gate.

Now when they were come up to the gate, there was
written over it in letters of gold, BLESSED ARE THEY

THAT DO HlS COMMANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE
RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN THROUGH
THE GATES INTO THE CITY.

Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them
call at the gate: the which when they did, some from
above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and
Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are come
from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear
to the King of this place : and then the pilgrims gave in
unto them each man his certificate, which they had received
in the beginning ; those therefore were carried in to the
King, who when He had read them, said, Where are the
men ? To whom it was answered, They are standing
without the gate. The King then commanded to open the
gate, That the righteous nation, said He, that keepeth
truth may enter in.

168

THE CELESTIAL CITY

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in
at the gate ; and, lo ! as they entered, they were trans-
figured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold.
There were also that met them with harps and crowns,
and gave them to them ; the harps to praise withal, and
the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream
that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it
was said unto them, Enter ye into the joy of our Lord.
I also heard the men themselves say that they sang with
a loud voice, saying, Blessing, honour, glory, and power,
be to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb
for ever and ever.

Now, just as the gates were opend to let in the men, I
looked in after them, and behold, the City shone like the
suii ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in them
walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in
their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they
answered one another without intermission, saying, Holy,
holy, holy, is the Lord ! And after that they shut up the
gates : which when I had seen, I wished myself among
them.

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I
turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come
up to the river side; but he soon got over, and that
without half that difficulty which the other two men
had met with. For it happened that there was then
in the place one Vain-Hope, a ferryman, that with his
boat helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did
ascend the hill, to come up to the gate ; only he came
alone; neither did any man meet him with the least
encouragement. When he was come up to the gate,
he looked up to the writing that was above, and then
began to knock, supposing that entrance should have
been quickly administered to him; but he was asked
by the men that looked over the top of the gate, Whence
came you ? and what he would have ? He answered,

169

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

I have ate and drank in the presence of the King, and
He has taught in our streets. Then they asked him
for his certificate, that they might go in and show it
to the King : so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and
found none. Then said they, Have you none? but the
man answered never a word. So they told the King,
but He would not come down to see him, but commanded
the two shining ones, that conducted Christian and Hope-
ful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind
him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took
him up, and carried him through the air, to the door that
I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then
I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of
heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction. So I
awoke, and behold it was a dream.

THE CONCLUSION.

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee,

See if thou canst interpret it to me.

Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed

Of misinterpreting, for that, instead

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:

By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed also that thou be not extreme
In playing with the outside of my dream :
Nor let my figure or similitude
Put thee into a laughter, or a feud ;
Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee
Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my vail,
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail,
There, if thou seekest them, «uch things to find
A« will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold.
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ?
None throws away the apple for the core.
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,
I know not but 'twill make me dream again.

170

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ntoM

THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME

THE SECOND PART

DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

WHEREIN IS SET FORTH THE MANNER OF THE SETTING OUT OF

CHRISTIAN'S WIFE AND CHILDREN ; THEIR DANGEROUS JOURNEY,
AND SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY

BY JOHN BUNYAN
I have used similitudes, Hos. xii. 10

THE

AUTHOR'S WAY

OF SENDING FORTH

HIS SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM

Go now, my little Book, to every place

Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face ;

Ca 11 at their door : if any say, Who's there ?

Then answer thou, Christiana is here.

If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,

With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how,

Tell who they are, also from whence they came :

Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name.

But if they should not, ask them yet again,

If formerly they did not entertain

One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say

They did, and were delighted in his way ;

Then let them know, that those related were

Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are

Tell them that they have left their house and home,
Are turned Pilgrims ; seek a world to come :
That they have met with hardships in the way :
That they do meet with troubles night and day :
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils
Have also overcome a many evils :
Yea, tell them also of the next who have,
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way ; and how they still
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will.

173

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Go tell them also of those dainty things
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.
Let them acquainted be, too, how they are
Beloved of their King, under His care ;
What goodly mansions for them He provides,
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides,
How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace
Thee as they did my firstling, and will grace
Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare,
As show will, they of Pilgrims lovers are.

OBJECTION I.

But how if they will not believe of me
That I am truly thine ? 'cause some there be
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ;
And by that means, have wrought themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who.

ANSWER.

'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ;
Yea, others half my name, and title too,
Have stitched to their book to make them do ;
But yet they, by their features, do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are.

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way,
Before them all, is to say out thy say
In thine own native language, which no man
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can.

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you like gipsies go about,
In naughty wise the country to defile ;
Or that you seek good people to beguile
174

ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART

With things unwarrantable — send for me,
And I will testify you pilgrims be ;
Yea, I will testify that only you
My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.

OBJECTION II.

But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him
Of those that wish him damned life and limb :
What shall I do, when I at such a door
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ?

ANSWER.

Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears.
My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turned out of door,
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.

In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold.

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.

'Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems,
That it might show its features and its limbs.
Yet more ; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear.
City and country will him entertain,
With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,
Or shows his head in any company.
175

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love,
Esteem it much ; yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight,
Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite.

Young ladies and young gentlewomen too
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show :
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts,
My Pilgrim has j 'cause he to them imparts
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold
To say, some prize him far above their gold.

The very children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him will ; will wish him well, and say,
He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Yea, some that did not love him at the first,
But called him fool and noddy,1 say they must,
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend,
And to those whom they love, they do him send.

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be
Afraid to show thy head : none can hurt thee,
That wish but well to him that went before ;
'Cause thou com'st after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,
For young, for old, for stagg'ring and for stable.

OBJECTION III.

But some there be that say, He laughs too loud.
And some do say, His head is in a cloud.
Some say, His words and stories are so dark,
They know not how by them to find his mark.

1 A simpleton.

176

ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART

ANSWER.

One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries
May well be guessed at by his wat'ry eyes.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did, at the same time, both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head j
That doth but show how Wisdom's covered
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind
To a search after what it fain would find.
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,
Do but the godly mind the more allure
To study what those sayings should contain,
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude
Will on the fancy more itself intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart and head,
Than things from similes not borrowed.

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels : behold, thou art sent
To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed,
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed !
What Christian left locked up, and went his way,
Sweet Christiana opens with her key.

OBJECTION IV.

But some love not the method of your first ;
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust.
If I should meet with such, what should I say ?
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ?

ANSWER.

My Christiana, if with such thou meet,
By all means, in all loving wise them greet ;

177 M

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Render them not reviling for revile ;

But if they frown, I pr'ythee, on them smile :

Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report,

Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish ; and some
Love not their friends, not their own house or home :
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl,
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl.
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice,
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice :
By no means strive, but in most humble wise
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go then, my little Book, and show to all
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest :
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blessed
To them for good, may make them choose to be
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.

Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art :
Say, I am Christiana ; and my part
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot.

Go also, tell them who and what they be
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ;
Say, Here's my neighbour Mercy ; she is one
That has long time with me a pilgrim gone ;
Come see her in her virgin face, and learn
'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern.
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize
The world which is to come, in any wise.
When little tripping maidens follow God,
And leave old doting sinners to His rod,
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried,
Hosanna ! to whom the old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found,
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrims' ground ;
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ;
How after his good Lord he bare his cross.

178

ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART

Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent
In solitariness, with fears and cries ;
And how at last he won the joyful prize.
He was a good man, though much down in spirit *
He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-Mind also,
Who not before, but still behind would go :
Show them also, how he had like been slain,
And how one Great-Heart did his life regain. %
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace,
One might true godliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt,
A man with crutches, but much without fault :
Tell them how Master Feeble-Mind and he
Did love, and in opinions much agree :
And let all know, though weakness was their chance.
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth,
That man of courage, though a very youth.
Tell every one his spirit was so stout,
No man could ever make him face about ;
And how Great-Heart and he could not forbear,
But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair !

Overlook not Master Despondency,
Nor Much- Afraid his daughter, though they lie
Under such mantles, as may make them look
(With some) as if their God had them forsook.
They softly went, but sure ; and at the end,
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.

When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings ;
Which, if but touched, will such music make,
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

Those riddles that lie couched within thy breast,
Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest

179

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain

For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain

Now may this little Book a blessing be
To those that love this little Book and me ;
And may its buyer have no cause to say,
His money is but lost, or thrown away.
Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ;
And may it persuade some that go astray,
To turn their foot and heart to the right way,

Is the hearty prayer of

The Author,

JOHN BUNYAN.

1 80

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

THE SECOND PART

COURTEOUS COMPANIONS,

SOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian
the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey toward the
Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to
you. I told you then also what I saw concerning his wife
and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him
on pilgrimage ; insomuch that he was forced to go on his
progress without them ; for he durst not run the danger
of that destruction which he feared would come by staying
with them in the City of Destruction : wherefore, as I then
showed you, he left them and departed.

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of
business, that I have been much hindered and kept back
from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went,
and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make
further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might
give you an account of them. But having had some
concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward.
Now having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile
off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.

And, as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman
came by where I lay ; and because he was to go some part
of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and
went with him. So as we walked, and as travellers usually

181

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

do, it was as if we fell into discourse ; and our talk
happened to be about Christian and his travels ; for thus
I began with the old man :

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on
the left hand of our way ?

Then said Mr Sagacity (for that was his name), It is the
City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with
a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once
myself through that town ; and therefore know that this
report you give of it is true.

Sag. Too true ! I wish I could speak truth in speaking
better of them that dwell therein.

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-
meaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear and
tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what
happened to a man some time ago in this town (whose
name was Christian), that went on pilgrimage up toward
the higher regions ?

Sag. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the
molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans,
frights, and fears, that he met with and had in his
journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our country
rings of him : there are but few houses that have heard
of him and his doings, but have sought after and got the
records of his pilgrimage ; yea, I think I may say, that
his hazardous journey has got a many well-wishers to his
ways j for, though when he was here he was fool in
every man's mouth, yet now he is gone he

Christians are . . .J ., j j r 11 r- » • -j

well spoken of is highly cemmended of all. For tis said
thougfcaUed ne lives bravely where he is: yea, many

foo1* while they of them that are resolved never to run
his hazards, yet have their mouths water
at his gains.

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything
that is true, that he Jiveth well where he is ; for he now
lives at, and in the Fountain of life, and has what he has
without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed

182

HAPPINESS OF CHRISTIAN

therewith. But, pray, what talk have the people about
him?

Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him :
some say that he now walks in white ; that he has
a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown
of gold beset with pearls upon his head : others say,
that the shining ones, that sometimes showed themselves
to him in his journey, are become his companions, and
that he is as familiar with them in the place where he
is, as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, 'tis
confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of
the place where he is, has bestowed upon him already
a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court, and that he
every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and talketh
with Him, and receiveth of the smiles and favours of
Him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is ex-
pected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country,
will shortly come into these parts, and will know
the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours
set so little ify him, and had him so much in derision,
when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim.

For they say that now he is so in the affections of his
Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much

, . , , • * . . . i Christian s King

concerned with the indignities that were win take chris-
cast upon Christian when he became a tian's part>
pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto
Himself; and no marvel, for 'twas for the love that
he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on't ; I am glad for
the poor man's sake, for that now he has rest from his
labour, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his
tears with joy ; and for that he is got beyond the
gun-shot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of
them that hate him. I also am glad for that a rumour
of these things is noised abroad in this country; who
can tell but that it may work some good effect on some
that are left behind ? But, pray, sir, while it is fresh
in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

children i Poor hearts ! I wonder in my mind whit
they do.

Sag. Who ? Christiana and her sons ? They are like
Goodtidin s of to ^° as we^ as Christian did himself; for
ChSstiaiJlfwSe though they all played the fool at the first,

and children. and would by nQ means be persuaded by

either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second
thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them : so they
have packed up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I : but, what ! wife, and
children, and all ?

Sag. 'Tis true : I can give you an account of the
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a
truth.

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it : I mean that they
are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and
her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going
some considerable way together, I will give you an
account of the whole matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day
that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's
life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she
could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work
in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband,
and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly
broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me,
nature can do no less but entertain the living with many
a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of the loss of
MarkthiS)youthat loving Delations. This, therefore, of her
are churls to your husband did cost her many a tear. But
this was not all ; for Christiana did also
begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming
behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that
she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken
away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by
swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages

CHRISTIANA'S VISITOR

4 So she cried out to her visitor, Sir, -will you carry me and my
children with you, that we also may go and worship this King?'

[see p. 187.

CHRISTIANA'S DREAM

to her dear friend ; which also clogged her conscience
and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much
broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans,
brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and
how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties,
and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with
him ; yea, there was not anything that Christian either
said to her, or did before her, all the while that his
burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon
her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her
heart in sunder ; specially that bitter outcry of his,
What shall I do to be saved ? did ring in her ears
most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone.
I have sinned away your father, and he is gone : he would
have had us with him, but I would not go myself : I also
have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell all
into tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh !
said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with
him ! then had it fared well with us, beyond what 'tis
like to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly
imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that
they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that
he was overrun with melancholy humours ; yet now
'twill not out of my mind, but that they sprang from
another cause; to wit, for that the light of life was
given to him, by the help of which, as I perceive, he
has escaped the snares of death. Then they all wept
again, and cried out, Oh ! woe worth the day !

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, behold,
she saw as if a broad parchment was Christiana's
opened before her, in which were re- dream
corded the sum of her ways ; and the crimes, as she
thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried
out aloud in ,her sleep, Lord, have mercy upon me, a
sinner ! and the little children heard her.

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favoured
ones standing by her bed-side, and saying, What shall we

185

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy, waking

Mark this: this is and sleePing 5 if she be suffered to go on
the^ quintessence as she begins, we shall lose her as we have
lost her husband. Wherefore we must,
by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts
of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help
but she will become a pilgrim.

Now she awoke in a great sweat •, also a trembling was
upon her ; but after a while she fell to sleeping again.
And then she thought she saw Christian her husband in a
Help against dis- place of bliss among many immortals, with
couragement a harp in his hand, standing and playing

upon it before One that sat upon a throne, with a rainbow
about His head. She saw also, as if he bowed his head
with his face to the paved work that was under his Prince's
feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and King for
bringing of me into this place. Then shouted a company of
them that stood round about, and harped with their harps ;
but no man living could tell what they said but Christian
and his companions.

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God,
and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard
at the door ; to whom she spake out, saying, If thou
comest in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen,
and opened the door, and saluted her with, Peace be to
this house. The which when he had done, he said,
Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? Then
she blushed and trembled ; also her heart began to
wax warm with desires to know whence he came, and
what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, My
name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are on high. It
is talked of where I dwell as if thou hadst a desire to go
Convictions se- thither : also there is a report that thou art
conded with fresh aware of the evil thou hast formerly done
readiness to° to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart

pardon against his way, and in keeping of these

thy babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One
has sent me to tell thee, that He is a God ready to

186

THE VISIT OF SECRET

forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply to pardon
offences. He also would have thee know, that He
inviteth thee to come into His presence, to His table, and
that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with
the heritage of Jacob thy father.

There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions
more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth
minister life to beholders ; and they will all be glad when
they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's
threshold.

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and
bowing her head to the ground, this visitor proceeded
and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which
1 have brought from thy husband's King : so she took it,
and opened it^Jmt it smelt after the manner of the
best perfume. AAlso it was written in letters of gold.
The contents oT~the letter was, That the JQng would
have her to do as did Christian her husband j for that
was the way to come to His City, and to dwell in His
presence with joy for ever^ At this the good woman
was quite overcome ; so * sKe cried out to Christiana quite
her visitor, Sir, will you carry me and overcome
my children with you, that we also may go and worship
this King ?

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before
the sweet. Thou must through troubles, Further instrnc-
as did he that went before thee, enter this tion to Christiana
Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did
Christian thy husband : go to the Wicket-gate yonder over
the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which
thou must go : and I wish thee all good speed. Also I
advise, that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that thou
read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have
got it by root of heart ; for it is one of the songs that
thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrim-
age, also this thou must deliver in at the further gate.

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he
told me the story, did himself seem to be greatly affected

187

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said: So
Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to
Christiana prays address herself unto them: My sons, I
well for her have, as you may perceive, been of late

under much exercise in my soul about the
death of your father : not for that I doubt at all of his
happiness ; for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have
also been much affected with the thoughts of mine own
state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature
miserable. My carriages also to your father in his distress
is a great load to my conscience ; for I hardened both mine
own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with
him on pilgrimage.

The thoughts of these things would now kill me
outright, but that for a dream which I had last night, and
but that for the encouragement that this stranger has
given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack
up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial
Country, that we may see your father, and be with him
and his companions in peace, according to the laws of
that land.

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy that
the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor
bid them farewell -, and they began to prepare to set out
for their journey.

But while they were thus about to be gone, two

of the women that were Christiana's neighbours, came

up to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she

said as before, If you come in God's name, come in. At

this the women were stunned ; for this

Christiana's new ,

language stunds kind or language they used not to hear,
or to perceive to drop from the lips of
Christiana. Yet they came in ; but behold, they found
the good woman a preparing to be gone from her
house.

So they began, and said, Neighbour, pray what is your
meaning by this ?

Christiana answered, and said to the eldest of them,
1 88

MERCY AND TIMOROUS CALL ON CHRISTIANA

'Two of the women that were Christiana's neighbours came up lo

her house and knocked at her door/

[see p. 188.

CHRISTIANA AND TIMOROUS

whose name was Mrs Timorous, I am preparing for a
journey.

(This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian
upon the Hill Difficulty, and would a Timorous comes to
had him gone back for fear of the jJ&ffiJ^S;'.,

lion 3 . ) her neighbours

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ?

Chr. Even to go after my good husband. And with
that she fell a weeping.

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour, pray, for your poor
children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one of
them is willing to stay behind.

Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who has
brought you into this mind !

Chr. O neighbour ! knew you but as much as I do, I
doubt not but that you would go with me.

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got
that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that
tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ?

Chr. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted
since my husband's departure from me ; but specially since
he went over the river. But that which
troubleth me most is, my churlish carriages
to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I am
now as he vTXs then, nothing will serve me but going on
pilgrimage./ I was a dreamed last night that I saw him.
Oh that mysbul was with him ! He dwelleth in the
presence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with
Him at His table ; he is become a companion of immortals,
and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the
best palace on earth, if compared, seems to me but as a
dunghill/^The Prince of the place has also sent for me,
with promise of entertainment, if I shall come to Him ;
His messenger was here even now, and has brought me
a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she
plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them,
What now will you say to this ?

189

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Tim. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and thy
husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You
have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with,
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way,
as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he went
along with him ; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise
men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over
and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the
The reasonings of Shadow of Death, and many other things,
the flesh Nor is the danger he met with at Vanity

Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man,
was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor
woman, do ? Consider also, that these four sweet babes
are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore,
though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself,
yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neigh-
bour : I have now a price put into mine hand to get gain,
and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have
no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that
you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with
in the way, they are so far off from being

A pertinent reply •• i i

to fleshly to me a discouragement, that they show I

reasonings am JQ ^ rjgnt< The bitter ffiUSt COHIC

before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the
sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in
God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and do not
disquiet me further.

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow,

Come, neighbour Mercy, let's leave her in her own hands,

since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy

was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her

neighbour ; and that for a twofold reason.

Mercy's bowels T- TT i i ™ • •

yearn over First. Her bowels yearned over Christiana.

So she said within herself, If my neighbour
will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her, and help
her. Secondly. Her bowels yearned over her own soul ;
for what Christiana had said, had taken some hold upon

190

TIMOROUS LEAVES HER

her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I
will yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and if I find
truth and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart
shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to
reply to her neighbour Timorous :

Mer. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see
Christiana this morning ; and, since she is, as you see, a
taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk
this sun-shiny morning a little way with her, to help her
on the way. But she told her not of her second reason,
but kept that to herself.

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling too ;
but take heed in time, and be wise : while we are out of
danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in.

So Mrs Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana
betook herself to her journey. But when Timorous forsakes
Timorous was got home to her house, she her, but Mercy
sends for some of her neighbours, to wit,
Mrs Bat's-Eyes, Mrs Inconsiderate, Mrs Light-Mind, and
Mrs Know-Not hing. So when they were Timorous
come to her house, she falls to telling of the acquaints her

r/~... i r i • jj friends what the

story or Christiana, and or her intended pood Christiana
journey. And thus she began her tale.

Tim. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning,
I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at the
door, I knocked, as you know 'tis our custom : and she
answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So in I
went, thinking all was well ; but, when I came in, I found
her preparing herself to depart the town, she, and also her
children. So I asked her, what was her meaning by that.
And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to
go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me also of
a dream that she had, and how the King of the country
where her husband was, had sent her an inviting letter
to come thither. Then said Mrs Know- Mrs KDOW-
Nothing, And what ! do you think she Nothing
will go ?

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on't ; and me-
191

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

thinks I know it by this ; for that which was my great
argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the
troubles she was like to meet with on the way), is one
great argument with her to put her forward on her journey.
For she told me in so many words, The bitter goes before
the sweet : yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the
sweet the sweeter.

Mrs Bat's-Eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman !
said she ; will she not take warning by

Mrs Bat's-Eyes , , ' „ m. . 5 r ° T

her husband s afflictions r for my part, I

see if he were here again, he would rest him content in

a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

Mrs Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with such

fantastical fools from the town ! a good

Mrs Inconsiderate ... r , r °

riddance, for my part, I say, or her !
Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her
mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she will either
be dumpish, or unneighbourly, or talk of such matters as
no wise body can abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall
never be sorry for her departure ; let her go, and let better
come in her room : 'twas never a good world since these
whimsical fools dwelt in it.

Then Mrs Light-Mind added as followeth : Come, put
Mrs Light-Mind this kind of talk away. I was yesterday

at Madam Wanton's, where we were as

Madam Wanton, . '

she that had like merry as the maids. For who do you
forVaTthfutin^ think should be there, but I and Mrs
time past Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more,

with Mr Lechery, Mrs Filth, and some others : so there
we had music and dancing, and what else was meet to fill
up the pleasure. And I dare say my lady herself is an
admirably well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr Lechery is as
pretty a fellow.

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy
n. went along with her : so as they went, her

Discourse betwixt , .. . ,°. , <•*«.. «

Mercy and good children being there also, Christiana began

to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana,

I take this as an unexpected favour, that thou shouldest

192

MERCY GOES WITH CHRISTIANA

set foot out of doors with me to accompany me a little in
my way.

Mer. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young),
If I thought it would be to purpose to go Mercy inclineg
with you, I would never go near the town toe°
any more.

Chr. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with
me : I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage :
my husband is where he would not but be for all the gold
in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though
thou goest but upon my invitation. The King, who hath
sent for me and my children, is one that _.

• i, i , . •».- T> • j «r i -i Christiana would

delighteth in Mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, have her neigh-
I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along
with me as my servant. Yet we will have all things in
common betwixt thee and me : only go along with me.

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall
be entertained ? Had I this hope from Mercy doubts
one that can tell, I would make no stick at of acceptance
all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help,
though the way was never so tedious.

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou
shalt do ; go with me to the Wicket-gate,
and there I will further inquire for thee ;
and if there thou shalt not meet with en- whjch is Christ,

and promisetn

couragement, 1 will be content that thou there to inquire

shalt return to thy place ; I also will pay

thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my

children in thy accompanying of us in our way as thou

doest.

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall
follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot
may there fall, even as the King of heaven
shall have His heart upon me.

Christiana then was glad at her heart : not only that she
had a companion; but also for that she Christiana &iad of
had prevailed with this poor maid to fall Mercy's company
in love with her own salvation. So they went on together,

193 N

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where-
fore weepeth my sister so ?

Mer. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall

Mercy grieves ^Ut "gh^y Consider what a State and COn-

for her carnal dition my poor relations are in, that yet

remain in our sinful town ? And that
which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they
have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to come.

Chr. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy
friends, as my good Christian did for me when he left me :
he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him ; but
Christian's his Lord and ours did gather up his tears,

prayers were anci put them into His bottle ; and now

answered for his , , * . . . , t ,

relations after both I and thou, and these my sweet babes,

are reaping the fruit and benefit of them.
I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost ;
for the truth hath said, that they that sow in tears shall
reap in joy and singing. And he that goeth forth and
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again
with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.
Then said Mercy,

Let the Most Blessed be my guide,

If 't be His blessed will,
Unto His gate, into His fold,

Up to His holy hill.

And let Him never suffer me

To swerve, or turn aside
From His free grace and holy ways,

Whate'er shall me betide.

And let Him gather them of mine,

That I have left behind;
Lord, make them pray they may be Thine,

With all their heart and mind.

Now my old friend proceeded and said, But, when
Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, she began to
be at a stand ; For, said she, this is the place in which my
dear husband had like to a been smothered with mud.
She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of
the King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was

194

THE WICKET-GATE

rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that was

true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for that many

there be that pretend to be the King's labourers, and that say

they are for mending the King's highways,

that bring dirt and dung instead of stones,

and so mar instead of mending. Here elusions instead

^. . . , c 'it L j'j of the word of life

Christiana therefore, with her boys, did
make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture,
only let us be wary. Then they looked Mercy the
well to the steps, and made a shift to get s°itgShof the
staggeringly over. Despond

Yet Christiana had like to a been in, and that not once
nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they
thought they heard words that said unto them, Blessed is
she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of the
things that have been told her from the Lord.

Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana,
Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at
the Wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond
would discourage me.

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know
mine ; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil
before we come at our journey's end. For can it be
imagined that the people that design to attain such
excellent glories as we do, and that are so envied that
happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what
fears and snares, with what troubles and afflictions they
can possibly assault us with that hate us ?

And now Mr Sagacity left me to dream out my dream
by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana, and
Mercy, and the boys go all of them up to p shouldbe
the gate : to which when they were come, made with con-
they betook themselves to a short debate, fear^J'weifas in
about how they must manage their calling faith and hope
at the gate, and what should be said unto Him that did
open to them : so it was concluded, since Christiana was
the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that
she should speak to Him that did open, for the rest. So

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Christiana began to knock, and, as her poor husband did,
she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any that
answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came
The dog, the barking upon them ;— a dog, and a great

devil, an'enemy one too : and this made the women and
children afraid. Nor durst they for a
while dare to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should
fly upon them. Now therefore they were greatly tumbled
up and down in their minds, and knew not what to do ;
Christiana and knock they durst not, for fear of the dog ;

pe^lexff aKt 8° ^ack theV ^UTSt nOt» *°r **** tliat ttlC

prayer"* Keeper of that gate should espy them as

they so went, and should be offended with them ; at
last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more
vehemently than they did at first. Then said the Keeper
of the gate, Who is the^ ? So the dog left off to bark,
and He opened unto them.

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not
our Lord be offended with His handmaidens, for that we
have knocked at His princely gate. Then said the Keeper,
Whence come ye ? And what is it that you would have ?

Christiana answered, We are come from whence Chris-
tian did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit,
to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this
gate into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I
answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana,
once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying,
What ! is she become now a pilgrim, that but a while
ago abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and
said, Yes ; and so are these my sweet babes also.

Then He took her by the hand and led her in, and said

. also, Suffer the little children to come unto

is?ntertafnednat Me; and with that He shut up the gate.

the gate Thig done) He called to a trumpeter that

was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with
shouting, and sound of crumpet, for joy. So he obeyed,
and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes.

196

MERCY AT THE GATE

* But Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon/

[see p. 197-

MERCY ADMITTED

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without,
trembling and crying, for fear that she was rejected.
But when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and
her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.

Chr. And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of
mine that stands yet without, that is come OH.^^.,,
hither upon the same account as myself: prayer for her
one that is much dejected in her mind, for
that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for :
whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come.

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each
minute was as long to her as an hour; The delays make
wherefore she prevented Christiana from the hungering soul
a fuller interceding for her, by knocking
at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud, that
she made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of
the gate, Who is there ? And said Christiana, It is my friend.

So He opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was
fallen down without in a swoon, for she Merc fa}n
fainted, and was afraid that no gate should
be opened to her.

Then He took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid
thee arise.

O Sir, said she, I am faint : there is scarce life left to
me. But He answered, that one once said, When my
soul fainted within me, I remembered the The cause of her
Lord : and my prayer came in unto Thee, f*™t™s
into Thy holy temple. Fear not, but stand upon thy feet,
and tell Me wherefore Thou art come.

Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never
invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from
the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear
I presume.

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this
place ?

Mer. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And if
there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech
that Thy poor handmaid may be a partaker thereof.

197

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then He took her again by the hand, and led her gently

in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on Me, by

what means soever they come unto Me. Then said He to

those that stood by, Fetch something and

Mark this ! . . - - , , « ,

give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to
stay her fainting : so they fetched her a bundle of myrrh,
and a while after she was revived.

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy,
received of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke
kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet further unto
Him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His
pardon, and further information what we must do.

I grant pardon, said He, by word and deed ; by word,
in the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I
obtained it. Take the first from My lips with a kiss, and
the other as it shall be revealed.

Now I saw in my dream, that He spake many good
words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded.
Christ crucified He also had them up to the top of the
seen afar off gate, and showed them by what deed they

were saved ; and told them withal, that that sight they
would have again as they went along in the way, to their
comfort.

So He left them a while in a summer parlour below,
Talk between where they entered into talk by them-

the Christians selves ; and thus Christiana began. — How
glad am I that we have got in hither !

Mer. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to
leap for joy.

Chr. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because
I had knocked and none did answer, that all our labour
had been lost, specially when that ugly cur made such
a heavy barking against us.

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were
taken into His favour, and that I was left behind. Now,
thought I, 'tis fulfilled which is written, Two women
shall be grinding together; the one shall be taken,
and the other left. I had much ado to forbear cry-

198

THE CHRISTIANS' TALK

ing out, Undone ! undone ! And afraid I was to knock
any more ; but when I looked up to what was written
over the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I
must either knock again, or die : so I knocked, but I
cannot tell how ; for my spirit now struggled betwixt
life and death.

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure
your knocks were so earnest, that the very Christiana thinks
sound of them made me start ; I thought I £rIys0bePtt£r0n
never heard such knocking in all my life ; than she
I thought you would a come in by violent hand, or a took
the kingdom by storm.

Mer. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was, could
but a done so? You saw that the door was shut upon
me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who,
I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, that would not a
knocked with all their might ? But, pray, what said my
Lord unto my rudeness ? Was He not angry with me ?

Chr. When He heard your lumbering noise, He gave
a wonderful innocent smile ; I believe what Christ iease<i
you did pleased Him well enough, for He with loud and
showed no sign to the contrary. But I
marvel in my heart why He keeps such a dog : had
I known that afore, I fear I should not have had heart
enough to a ventured myself in this manner. But now
we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my heart.

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time He comes
down, why He keeps such a filthy cur in His yard ; I hope
He will not take it amiss.

A.y, do, said the children, and persuade Him to hang
him ; for we are afraid that he will bite us The children are
when we go hence. afraid of the do«

So at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell
to the ground on her face before Him, and worshipped, and
said, Let my Lord accept of the sacrifice of praise which I
now offer unto Him with the calves of my lips.

So He said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. But
she continued upon her face, and said, Righteous art Thou,

199

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

O Lord, when I plead with Thee ; yet let me talk with

Mercy expos- Thee of Thy Judgments. Wherefore

tuiates about the dost Thou keep so cruel a dog in Thy

yard, at the sight of which, such women

and children as we are ready to fly from the gate for fear ?

He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; he

also is kept close in another man's ground,

The devil . -, r .. . 1-1,. i

only My pilgrims hear his barking : he
belongs to the castle which you see there at a distance, but
can come up to the walls of this place. He has frighted many
an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice
of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep
him out of any good will to Me or Mine, but with intent to
keep the pilgrims from coming to Me, and that they may
be afraid to knock at this gate for entrance. Some-
times also he has broken out, and has worried some
that I love ; but I take all at present patiently. I also
give my pilgrims timely help, so they are not delivered up
to his power, to do with them what his doggish nature
would prompt him to. But what, My purchased one, I
trow, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou
wouldest not a been afraid of a dog. The beggars that
A check to the &° ^rom door to door, will, rather than they
carnal fear of the will lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of
piignms tjie bawling, barking, and biting too of a

dog ; and shall a dog, a dog in another man's yard, a dog
whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any
one from coming to Me ? I deliver them from the lions,
their darling from the power of the dog.

Mer. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; I

Christians, when fP^6 ^ * ™<JerStOOd DOt 5 I ackllOW-

wise enough, ac- ledge that I hou doest all things well,
wisdom 3 their Chr. Then Christiana began to talk of

Lord their journey, and to inquire after the way.

— So He fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in
the way of His steps, according as He had dealt with her
husband before. So I saw in my dream that they walked on
in their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them.

200

THE BOYS AND THE FRUIT

'So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the
trees, and with the fruit that did hang thereon, did pluck

them, and began to eat/

[see p. 201.

THE DEVIL'S GARDEN

Then Christiana began to sing, saying,

Blessed be the day that I began

A pilgrim for to be ;
And blessed also be that man

That thereto moved me.

Tis true, 'twas long ere I began

To seek to live for ever;
But now I run as fast as 1 can :

'Tis better late than never.

Our tears to joy, our fears to faith,

Are turned, as we see;
Thus our beginning (as one saith)

Shows what our end will be.

Now there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced
in the way up which Christiana and her companions were to
go, a garden, and that garden belonged to

, V • The devil's garden

him whose was that barking dog, of whom
mention was made before. And some of the fruit-trees
that grew in that garden shot their branches over the wall ;
and being mellow, they that found them did gather them up,
and oft eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's boys, as boys
are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, Tfa
and with the fruit that did hang thereon, did of the enemy-?1*
pluck them, and began to eat. Their mother trvit
did also chide them for so doing, but still the boys went on.
Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is
none of ours ; but she did not know that they did belong
to the enemy : I'll warrant you, if she had, she would a
been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went
on their way. Now by that they were gone TWO ill-favoured
about two bow-shots from the place that ones
led them into the way, they espied two very ill-favoured
ones coming down apace to meet them. With that Christiana
and Mercy her friend covered themselves with their veils,
and so kept on their journey : the children also went on
before ; so at last they met together. Then they that came
down to meet them, came just up to the

.r . ,J They assault

women, as if they would embrace them; but Christiana and

Christiana said, Stand back, or go peace- Mercy

ably by as you should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf,

201

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands
upon them : at that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned
at them with her feet. Mercy also, as well as she could,
The pilgrims did what she could to shift them. Chris-

struggie with them tiana agajn SB\d to them, Stand back, and be
gone, for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as ye
see, and such too as live upon the charity of our friends.

Ill-Fav. Then said one of the two of the men, We
make no assault upon you for money, but are come out to
tell you, that if you will but grant one small request which
we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever.

Chr. Now Christiana, imagining what they should
mean, made answer again, We will neither hear, nor re-
gard, nor yield to what you ask. We are in haste,
cannot stay ; our business is a business of life and death.
So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go
past them ; but they letted them in their way.

Ill-Fav. And they said, We intend no hurt to your
lives ; 'tis another thing we would have.

Chr. Ay, quoth Christiana, you would have us body

and soul, for I know 'tis for that you are

come ; but we will die rather than upon the

spot, than suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares

as shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with that

they both shrieked out, and cried, Murder ! murder ! and

so put themselves under those laws that are provided for

the protection of women. But the men still made their

approach upon them, with design to prevail against them.

They therefore cried out again.

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at
'Tis oodtoc which they came, their voice was heard

outwhen we^e from whence they were, thither : where-
fore some of the house came out, and
knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste
The Reliever to hfir relief. But by that they were got

comes within sight of them, the women were in

a very great scuffle ; the children also stood crying by.
Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the

202

DISCOURSE WITH RELIEVER

ruffians, saying, What is that thing that you do ; would you
make my Lord's people to transgress ? He also attempted
to take them, but they did make their escape The m ones fly ^0
over the wall into the garden of the man to the devil for relief
whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became their
protector. This reliever then came up to the women, and
asked them how they did. So they answered, We thank
thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat
affrighted : we thank thee also for that thou earnest in to
our help, for otherwise we had been overcome.

Reliever. So after a few more words, this reliever
said as followeth : I marvelled much when The Reliever talks
you was entertained at the gate above, to the women
being ye knew that ye were but weak women, that you
petitioned not the Lord there for a conductor ; then might
you have avoided these troubles and dangers ; for He would
have granted you one.

Chr. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our
present blessing, that dangers to come were
forgotten by us. Beside, who could have
thought, that so near the King's palace there should have
lurked such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had been well for
us had we asked our Lord for one ; but since our Lord
knew 'twould be for our profit, I wonder He sent not one
along with us.

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not
asked for, lest by so doing they become of little esteem ;
but when the want of a thing is felt, it We lose for want
then comes under, in the eyes of him that o£ asking for
feels it, that estimate that properly is its due, and so con-
sequently will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted
you a conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed
that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you
have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and
tend to make you more wary.

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess
our folly, and ask one ?

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present Him
203

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

with. To go back again, you need not ; for in all places
where you shall come, you will find no want at all ; for in
every of my Lord's lodgings, which He has prepared for
the reception of His pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish
them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said, He
will be inquired of by them to do it for them. And 'tis
a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had
thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went
on their way.

Mer. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here !
The mistake of I made account we had now been past all
Mercy danger, and that we should never see

sorrow more.

Chr. Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to
Mercy, may excuse thee much : but as for

Christiana's guilt r i • L L r

me, my fault is so much the greater, for
that I saw this danger before I came out of the doors, and
yet did not provide for it where provision might have been
had. I am therefore much to be blamed.

Mer. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before
you came from home ? Pray open to me this riddle.

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of
Christiana's doors, one night, as I lay in my bed, I had

dream repeated a dream about this ; for methought I saw
two men, as like these as ever the world they could look,
stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent
my salvation. I will tell you their very words. They said
('twas when I was in my troubles), What shall we do with
this woman? for she cries out waking and sleeping for
forgiveness ; if she be suffered to go on as she begins,
we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. This you
know might a made me take heed, and have provided when
provision might a been had.

Mer. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an
... occasion ministered unto us to behold our

mercy makes . /- . T , ,

good use of their own imperfections, so our Lord has taken
neglect of duty occasion thereby to make manifest the riches
of His grace; for He, as we see, has followed us with

204

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands
that were stronger than we, of His mere good pleasure.

Thus now when they had talked away a little more time,
they drew near to a house which stood in the way, which
house was built for the relief of pilgrims, as you will find
more fully related in the first part of these records of the
Pilgrints Progress. So they drew on towards the house
(the house of the Interpreter); and when they came to
the door, they heard a great talk in the Talk in the Inter.
house. They then gave ear, and heard, preter's house

. J , ^, 9 . , , about Christiana s

as they thought, Christiana mentioned by going on pa-
name ; for you must know, that there went sruna£e
along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's
going on pilgrimage. And this thing was the more pleasing
to them, because they had heard that she was Christian's
wife, that woman who was some time ago so unwilling
to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they
stood still, and heard the good people within commend-
ing her, who they little thought stood at the door.
At last Christiana knocked, as she had she knocks at the
done at the gate before. Now, when she door
had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, named
Innocent, and opened the door, and looked, The door is opened
and behold, two women were there. to them by innocent

Dam. Then said the damsel to them, With whom
would you speak in this place ?

Chr. Christiana answered, We understand that this is
a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, and
we now at this door are such : wherefore we pray that
we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are
come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and
we are loth to-night to go any further.

Dam. Pray what may I call your name, that I may
tell it to my Lord within ?

Chr. My name is Christiana ; I was the wife of that
pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way, and these
be his four children. This maiden is also my companion,
and is going on pilgrimage too.

205

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Innocent. Then Innocent ran in (for that was her

name), and said to those within, Can you think who is at

the door ? There is Christiana and her children, and her

companion, all waiting for entertainment here. Then they

leaped for joy, and went and told their

If 7t& integer master. So he came to the door, and

S?nedhpUgr?ma is looking uPon her, he said> Art thou that

Christiana whom Christian the good man

left behind him, when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life ?

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to
slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on
in his journey alone, and these are his four children ; but
now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is
right but this.

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the
man that said to his son, Go work to-day in my vineyard ;
and he said to his father, I will not ; but afterwards
repented and went.

Chr. Then said Christiana, So be it, Amen. God
make it a true saying upon me, and grant that I may be
found at the last of Him in peace, without spot, and
blameless.

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door?
Come in, thou daughter of Abraham ; we were talking
of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before how
thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come,
maiden, come in. So he had them all into the house.

So when they were within, they were bidden sit
down and rest them; the which when they had done,
those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house, came
into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another
smiled, and they all smiled for joy that
Christiana was become a pilgrim. They
walk in God's also looked upon the boys, they stroked

them over the faces with the hand in
token of their kind reception of them : they also carried it
lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their
master's house.

206

MAN WITH MUCK-RAKE

After a while, because supper was not ready, the
Interpreter took them into his Significant The significant
Rooms, and showed them what Christian, Rooms
Christiana's husband, had seen some time before. Here
therefore they saw the man in the cage, the man and his
dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the
picture of the biggest of them all, together with the rest
of those things that were then so profitable to Christian.

This done, and after these things had been some-
what digested by Christiana and her company, the Inter-
preter takes them apart again, and has them first into a
room, where was a man that could look _,

i.i * he man with the

no way but downwards, with a muck- muck-rake ex-
rake in his hand. There stood also one pou
over his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and
proffered to give him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the
man did neither look up nor regard, but raked to himself
the straws, the small sticks, and dust of the floor.

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know
somewhat the meaning of this : for this is a figure of a
man of this world ; is it not, good sir ?

Inter. Thou hast said the right, said he ; and his
muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou
seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks,
and the dust of the floor, than to do what He says that
calls to him from above with the celestial crown in
His hand ; it is to show, that heaven is but as a fable to
some, and that things here are counted the only things
substantial. Now, whereas it was also showed thee that
the man could look no way but downwards ; it is to let
thee know that earthly things, when they are with power
upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from
God.

Chr. Then said Christiana, O deliver r, . .. ,

r . . Christiana s

me from this muck-rake. prayer against the

Inter. That prayer, said the Inter-
preter, has lain by till 'tis almost rusty : Give me not
riches, is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws,

207

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things now
looked after.

With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, It is,
alas ! too true.

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had
them into the very best room in the house ; — a very brave
room it was. So he bid them look round about, and see
if they could find anything profitable there. Then they
looked round and round ; for there was nothing there to
be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they
overlooked.

Mer. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing : but
Christiana held her peace.

Inter. But, said the Interpreter, look again. She
therefore looked again, and said, Here is not any thing
is there but one but an "gty spider, who hangs by her
spider? hands upon the wall. Then said he, Is

there but one spider in all this spacious room ? Then the
water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman
Talk about the quick of apprehension : and she* said, Yea,
BPider Lord, there are more here than one ; yea,

and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that
which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly
upon her, and said, Thou hast said the truth. This made
Mercy blush, and the boys to cover their faces ; for they
all began now to understand the riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again, The spider taketh

hold with her hands, as you see, and is in kings' palaces.

And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you, that

how full of the venom of sin soever you

be, yet you may, by the hand of faith,

lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to

the King's house above ?

Chr. I thought, said Christiana, of something of this ;
but I could not imagine it all. I thought that we were
like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in
what fine room soever we were : but that by this spider,
this venomous and ill-favoured creature, we were to learn

208

THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE

* A man that could look no way but downwards with a muck-rake

in his hand. There was also One over his headt with a celestial

Crown in His hand/

[see p. 207.

THE HEN AND CHICKENS

how to act faith, that came not into my mind ; and
yet she had taken hold with her hands, as I see, and
dwells in the best room in the house. God has made
nothing in vain.

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood
in their eyes : yet they looked one upon another, and also
bowed before the Interpreter.

He had them then into another room, where were a hen
and chickens, and bid them observe a while. Of the hen and
So one of the chickens went to the trough chickens
to drink ; and every time she drank she lifted up her head
and her eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this
little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence
your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up.
Yet again, said he, observe and look : so they gave heed,
and perceived that the hen did walk in a four-fold method
towards her chickens : I. She had a common call, and that
she hath all day long. 2. She had a special call, and that
she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note.
And, 4. She had an outcry.

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and these
chickens to His obedient ones ; for answerable to her, Him-
self has His methods which He walketh in towards His
people. By His common call, He gives nothing ; by His
special call, He always has something to give ; He has also
a brooding voice, for them that are under His wing ; and
He has an outcry, to give the alarm when He seeth the
enemy come. I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the
room where such things are, because you are women, and
they are easy for you.

Chr. And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some
more. So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was
a butcher killing of a sheep; and behold, or the butcher
the sheep was quiet, and took her death and the sheep
patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You must learn
of this sheep to suffer, and to put up wrongs without
murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she
takes her death, and, without objecting, she suffereth her

209 ' 0

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you
His sheep.

After this, he led them into his garden, where was great

variety of flowers ; and he said, Do you

see all these? So Christiana said, Yes.

Then said he again, Behold, the flowers are divers in

stature, in quality, and colour, and smell, and virtue ; and

some are better than some ; also where the gardener has

set them, there they stand, and quarrel not one with another.

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed

with wheat and corn : but when they

beheld the tops of all were cut off, only

the straw remained, he said again, This ground was dunged,

and ploughed, and sowed, but what shall we do with the

crop ? Then said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck

of the rest. Then said the Interpreter again, Fruit, you

see, is that thing you look for ; and for want of that you

condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of

men : beware that in this you condemn not yourselves.

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied
Of the robin a little robin with a great spider in his

and the spider mouth. So the Interpreter said, Look

here. So they looked, and Mercy wondered; but
Christiana said, What a disparagement is it to Such a
little pretty bird as the robin-red-breast is, he being also
a bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of
sociableness with men ! I had thought they had lived
upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless
matter ; I like him worse than I did.

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an emblem,
very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to sight they
are, as this robin, pretty of note, colour, and carriages.
They seem also to have a very great love for professors
that are sincere ; and, above all other, to desire to sociate
with, and to be in their company, as if they could live
upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend also, that
therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly,
and the appointments of the Lord : but when they are by

210

THE INTERPRETER'S SAYINGS

themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up
spiders; they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and
swallow down sin like water.

So when they were come again into the house, because
supper as yet was not ready, Christiana
again desired that the Interpreter would
either show, or tell of, some other things
that are profitable.

Then the Interpreter began, and said : The fatter the
sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is,
the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the
more healthy the lustful man is, the more prone he is unto
evil. There is a desire in women to go neat and fine ;
and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that that in
God's sight is of great price. 'Tis easier watching a night
or two, than to sit up a whole year together : so 'tis easier
for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he
should to the end. Every shipmaster, when in a storm,
will willingly cast that overboard that is of the smallest
value in the vessel ; but who will throw the best out first ?
None but he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a
ship, and one sin will destroy a sinner. He that forgets
his friend, is ungrateful unto him ; but he that forgets his
Saviour, is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin,
and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth
cockle, and thinks to fills his barn with wheat or barley. If
a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him,
and make it always his company-keeper. Whispering, and
change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the world. If the
world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that
worth with men, what is heaven that God commendeth !
If the life that is attended with so many troubles, is so loth
to be let go by us, what is the life above ! Everybody
will cry up the goodness of men ; but who is there that is,
as he should be, affected with the goodness of God ? We
seldom sit down to meat, but we eat, and leave. So there
is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the
whole world has need of.

211

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into
Of the tree that his garden again, and had them to a tree,
is rotten at heart whose inside was all rotten and gone, and
yet it grew and had leaves. Then said Mercy, What
means this ? This tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and
whose inside is rotten, is that to which many may be com-
pared that are in the garden of God ; who with their mouths
speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing
for Him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for
nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinderbox.

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things
They are at set on board ; so they sat down, and did

supper eat) when one had given thanks. And

the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged
with him with music at meals ; so the minstrels played.
There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he
had. His song was this :

The Lord i« only my support,

And He that doth me feed ;
How can I then want any thing

Whereof I stand in need?

When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter
asked Christiana, what it was that at first
did move her thus to betake herself to a
pilgrim's life. Christiana answered, First, the loss of my
A repetition of husband came into my mind, at which I
Christiana's ex- was heartily grieved ; but all that was but
peri natural affection. Then after that came the

troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my mind,
and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to that.
So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me
into the pond, but that opportunely I had a dream of the
well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the King
of that country where my husband dwells, to come to Him.
The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my
mind, that they forced me to this way.

Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you set
out of doors ?

212

MERCY'S EXPERIENCE

Chr. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs Timorous :
she was akin to him that would have persuaded my
husband to go back for fear of the lions. She all-to-be-
fooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate
adventure ; she also urged what she could to dishearten
me to it, the hardships and troubles that my husband
met with in the way ; but all this I got over pretty well.
But a dream that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I
thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey,
that hath troubled me much : yea, it still runs in my mind,
and makes me afraid of every one that I meet, lest they
should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out
of the way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would
not have everybody know it, that between this and the
gate by which we got into the way, we were both so
sorely assaulted, that we were made to cry out murder j
and the two that made this assault upon us were like the
two that I saw in my dream.

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good ; thy
latter end shall greatly increase. So he A question put
addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto to Mercy
her, And what moved thee to come hither, sweet-heart ?

Mer. Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a
while continued silent.

Inter. Then said he, Be not afraid ; only believe, and
speak thy mind.

Mer. So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of ex-
perience is that that makes me covet to be in
silence, and that also that fills me with fears
of coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as
my friend Christiana can ; nor know I what it is to mourn for
my refusing of the counsel of those that were good relations.

Inter. "What was it then, dear heart, that hath pre-
vailed with thee to do as thou hast done ?

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to
be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to
see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When
we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked

213

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

what was her meaning. She said, she was sent for to
go to her husband ; and then she up and told us how she
had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place,
among immortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp,
eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises
to Him for bringing him thither, etc. Now methought
while she was telling these things unto us, my heart burned
within me. And I said in my heart, If this be true, I will
leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity,
and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked
her further of the truth of these things, and if she would
let me go with her; for I saw now, that there was no
dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our
town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart ; not for
that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many
of my relations were left behind. And I am come with
all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with
Christiana unto her husband and his King.

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given
credit to the truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love
that she bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, leave
father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come
out and go with a people that she knew not heretofore.
The Lord recompense thy work, and full reward be given
thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou
art come to trust.

Now supper was ended, and preparations were made for
The address bed; the women were laid singly alone,

themselves for and the boys by themselves. Now when
Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for
joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were re-
Mercy's eood moved further from her than ever they
nights rest were before. So she lay blessing and
praising God, who had had such favour for her.

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared
themselves for their departure : but the Interpreter would
have them tarry a while ; For, said he, you must orderly
go from hence. Then said he to the damsel that at first

214

THE BATH

opened unto them, Take them and have them into the garden
to the bath, and there wash them, and The bath of
make them clean from the soil which they Sanctification
have gathered by travelling. Then Innocent the damsel
took them and had them into the garden, and brought
them to the bath ; so she told them, that there they must
wash and be clean, for so her master would have the
women to do, that called at his house as they were going
on pilgrimage. Then they went in and Th hlnit
washed, yea, they and the boys and all ;
and they came out of the bath, not only sweet and clean,
but also much enlivened, and strengthened in their joints.
So when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when
they went out to the washing.

When they were returned out of the garden from the
bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them,
and said unto them, Fair as the moon. Then he called
for the seal, wherewith they used to be sealed that were
washed in his bath. So the seal was

, .. , . , , i ney are sealed

brought, and he set his mark upon them,
that they might be known in the places whither they were
yet to go. Now the seal was the contents and sum of the
passover which the children of Israel did eat, when they
came out from the land of Egypt ; and the mark was
set betwixt their eyes. This seal greatly added to their
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also
added to their gravity, and made their countenances more
like those of angels.

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that
waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch
out garments for these people. So she went and fetched
out white raiment, and laid it down before him; so he
commanded them to put it on : it was fine

. , -m-, , They are clothed

linen, white and clean. When the women

were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the

other: for that they could not see that

i iii i r i«ii True humility

glory each one had on herself, which they
could see in each other. Now therefore they began to

215

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

esteem each other better than themselves. For, You are
fairer than I am, said one ; and, You are more comely than
I am, said another. The children also stood amazed, to
see into what fashion they were brought.

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his,
one Great-heart, and bid him take sword, and helmet, and
shield-, and, Take these my daughters, said he, and conduct
them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they
will rest next. So he took his weapons, and went before
them ; and the Interpreter said, God speed. Those also
that belonged to the family, sent them away with many a
good wish. So they went on their way, and sang :

This place has been our second stage:

Here we have heard and seen
Those good things, that from age to age

To others hid have been.

The dunghill-raker, spider, hen,

The chicken, too, to me
Hath taught a lesson : let me then

Conformed to it be.

The butcher, garden, and the field,

The robin and his bait,
Also the rotten tree, doth yield

Me argument of weight ;

To move me for to watch and pray

To strive to be sincere :
To take my cross up day by day,

And serve the Lord with fear.

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great-
heart went before them. So they went, and came to the place
where Christian's burden fell off his back, and tumbled
into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause ; and here
also they blessed God. Now, said Christiana, it comes to
my mind what was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we
should have pardon by word and deed ; by word, that is,
by the promise ; by deed, to wit, in the way it was ob-
tained. What the promise is, of that I know something ;

216

JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST

but what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that
it was obtained, Mr Great-heart, I suppose you know,
wherefore, if you please, let us hear your discourse thereof.
Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained
by some one for another that hath need Acommentupon
thereof: not by the person pardoned, but what was said at

. \ • i • i T i the gate, or a dis-

m the way, saith another, in which 1 have course of our being
obtained it. So then, to speak to the justified by Christ
question more at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy,
and these boys, have attained, was obtained by another ;
to wit, by Him that let you in at the gate. And He hath
obtained it in this double way; He has performed righteous-
ness to cover you, and spilt blood to wash you in.

Chr. But if He parts with His righteousness to us,
what will He have for Himself?

Great. He has more righteousness than you have need
of, or than He needeth Himself.

Chr. Pray make that appear.

Great. With all my heart : but first I must premise,
that He of whom we are now about to speak, is one that
has not His fellow. He has two natures in one person,
plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto
each of these natures a righteousness belongeth, and each
righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that one may
as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate its
justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses
therefore we are not made partakers, so as that they, or
any of them, should be put upon us, that we might be
made just, and live thereby. Besides these, there is a
righteousness, which this person has, as these two natures
are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of
the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood ; nor the
righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the
Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union
of both natures, and may properly be called the righteous-
ness that is essential to His being prepared of God to the
capacity of the mediatory office, which He was to be in-
trusted with. If He parts with His first righteousness, He

217

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

parts with His Godhead ; if He parts with His second
righteousness, He parts with the purity of His manhood ;
if He parts with this third, He parts with that perfection
which capacitates Him for the office of mediation. He has
therefore another righteousness, which standeth in per-
formance, or obedience to a revealed will ; and that is it
that He puts upon sinners, and that by which their sins
are covered. Wherefore he saith, As by one man's dis-
obedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of
One shall many be made righteous.

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us ?

Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to His natures
and office, and so cannot be communicated unto another ; yet
it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that justifies
is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of His
Godhead gives virtue to His obedience ; the righteousness
of His manhood giveth capability to His obedience to
justify ; and the righteousness that standeth in the union
of these two natures to His office, giveth authority to that
righteousness to do the work for which it is ordained.

So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has
no need of; for He is God without it. Here is a righteous-
ness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make Him so ;
for He is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteous-
ness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of; for He is
perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteousness that
Christ, as God, as man, as God-man, has no need of with
reference to Himself, and therefore He can spare it ; a
justifying righteousness, that He for Himself wanteth
not, and therefore He giveth it away. Hence 'tis called
the gift of righteousness. This righteousness, since
Christ Jesus the Lord has made Himself under the law,
must be given away ; for the law doth not only bind him
that is under it, to do justly, but to use charity. Where-
fore he must, he ought by the law, if he hath two coats,
to give one to him that has none. Now our Lord indeed
hath two coats, one for Himself, and one to spare ; where-
fore He freely bestows one upon those that have none.

218

JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST

And thus, Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that
are here, doth your pardon come by deed, or by the work
of another man. Your Lord Christ is He that has worked,
and given away what He wrought for to the next poor
beggar He meets.

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must
something be paid to God as a price, as well as something
prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to
the just curse of a righteous law : now from this curse we
must be justified by way of redemption, a price being
paid for the harms we have done j and this is by the
blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place
and stead, and died your death for your transgressions.
Thus has He ransomed you from your transgressions by
blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls
with righteousness, for the sake of which, God passeth
by you, and will not hurt you when He comes to judge
the world.

Chr. This is brave ! Now I see that there was
something to be learned by our being Christiana
pardoned by word and deed. Good affected with this
Mercy, let us labour to keep this in «""—*'-
mind : and, my children, do you remember it also. But,
sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's burden
fall from off his shoulder, and that made him give three
leaps for joy ?

Great. Yes, 'twas the belief of this that cut those
strings, that could not be cut by other
means j and 'twas to give him a proof SlfbSun'dcffli-
of the virtue of this, that he was suffered £an's burde« to

mm were cut

to carry his burden to the cross.

Chr. I thought so ; for though my heart was lightful
and joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and
joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt,
though I have felt but little as yet, that if the most
burdened man in the world was here, and did see and
believe as I now do, 'twould make his heart merry and
blithe.

219

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a
burden brought to us by the sight and

How affection to . . ° c .</ O

Christ is begot consideration or these, but an endeared
affection begot in us by it ; for who can,
if he doth but once think that pardon comes not only by
promise but thus, but be affected with the way and means
of his redemption, and so with the Man that hath wrought
it for him ?

Chr. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed, to
think that He should bleed for me. O Thou loving
One ! O Thou blessed One ! Thou deservest to have
me ; Thou has bought me. Thou deservest to have
Cause of admira- me a11 > Thou has paid for me ten
tio" thousand times more than I am worth.

No marvel that this made the water stand in my husband's
eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am
persuaded he wished me with him : but, vile wretch that I
was ! I let him come all alone. O Mercy, that thy father
and mother were here 1 yea, and Mrs Timorous also ! nay,
I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton
too. Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected ; nor
could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the
other, prevail with them to go home again, and to refuse
to become good pilgrims.

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your
affections ; will it, think you, be always thus with you ?
Besides, this is not communicated to every one, not to
every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were
that stood by, and that saw the blood run from His heart
to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that, instead of
lamenting, they laughed at Him, and, instead of becoming
_ , . His disciples, did harden their hearts

To be affected . * '

with Christ, and against Him. So that all that you have,

with what He has j « \ i «• •

done is a thing my daughters, you have by peculiar im-
speciai pression made by a divine contemplating

upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that 'twas
told you, that the hen, by her common call, gives no meat
to her chickens. This you have therefore by a special grace.

220

SIMPLE AND SLOTH

Now I saw still in my dream, that they went on until

they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and

Presumption lay and slept in, when Christian went by on

pilgrimage : and behold, they were hanged up in irons a

s little way off on the other side.

Mer. Then said Mercy to him that was their
guide and conductor What are these Simple> and sloth|
three men ? and for what are they hanged and Presumption

hanged ; and whv

there ?

Great. These three men were men of very bad qualities ;
they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and whoso-
ever they could they hindered. They were for sloth and
folly themselves, and whoever they could persuade with
they made so too, and withal taught them to presume that
they should do well at last. They were asleep when
Christian went by, and now you go by they are hanged.

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their
opinion ?

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way.
There was Slow-pace that they persuaded

.-/,, -1 i -i Their crimes

to do as they. They also prevailed with
one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after-
lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman,
her name was Dull, to turn out of the way and become
as they. Besides, they brought up an ill Whotheyprc.
report of your Lord, persuading others that vailed upon to turn
He was a taskmaster. They also brought
up an evil report of the good land, saying, 'twas not half so
good as some pretend it was. They also began to vilify
His servants, and to count the very best of them meddlesome,
troublesome busy-bodies. Further, they would call the
bread of God husks ; the comforts of His children fancies ;
the travel and labour of pilgrims, things to no purpose.

Chr. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they
shall never be bewailed by me : they have but what they
deserve ; and I think it is well that they hang so near the
highway, that others may see and take warning. But had
it not been well if their crimes had been engraven in some

221

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

plate of iron or brass, and left here even where they did
their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ?

Great. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will
go a little to the wall.

Mer. No, no ; let them hang, and their names rot, and
their crimes live for ever against them. I think it a high
favour that they were hanged afore we came hither;
who knows else what they might a done to such poor
women as we are ? Then she turned it into a song, saying :

Now then you three hang there, and be a sign
To all that shall against the truth combine.
And let him that comes after fear this end,
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend.
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware,
That unto holiness opposers are.

Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill
Difficulty, where again their good friend Mr Great-heart
took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when
Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the
spring. Lo, saith he, this is the spring that Christian drank
of before he went up this hill : and then
Jetunf ofgood 'twas clear and good ; but now 'tis dirty
doctrine in with the feet of some that are not desirous

erroneous tunes 111

that pilgrims here should quench their
thirst. Thereat Mercy said, And why so envious, trow ?
But, said the guide, it will do, if taken up and put into a
vessel that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will sink
to the bottom, and the water come out by itself more clear.
Thus therefore Christiana and her companions were com-
pelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen
pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom,
and then they drank thereof.

Next he snowed them the two by-ways that were at the
foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost them-
selves. And, said he, these are dangerous

SfeSd up,%S ?ot Paths- Two were here cast away when

kofn Anthem Christian came by ; and although, as you

see, these ways are since stopped up

with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will

222

ARBOUR ON THE HILL

choose to adventure here rather than take the pains to go
up this hill.

Chr. The way of transgressors is hard. 'Tis a wonder
that they can get into those ways without danger of break-
ing their necks.

Great. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any of
the King's servants doth happen to see them, and doth call
upon them, and tell them that they are in the wrong way,
and do bid them beware of the danger ; then they will
railingly return them answer, and say, As for the word
that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King,
we will not hearken unto thee ; but we will certainly
do whatsoever thing goeth out of our own mouths.
Nay, if you look a little further, you will see that these
ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts,
and ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up : yet
they will choose to go there.

Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; up-
hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is

c irMl j . . . .-«, The reason why

fulfilled unto them as it is written, The some do choose
way of the slothful man is a hedge of to*° in by~™*s
thorns. Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare,
than to go up this hill, and the rest of this way to the city.

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and
up the hill they went. But before they The hill puts the
got to the top, Christiana began to pant, pilgrims to it
and said, I dare say this is a breathing hill ; no marvel if
they that love their ease more than their souls choose to
themselves a smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit
down : also the least of the children began to cry. Come,
come, said Great-heart, sit not down here ; for a little
above is the Prince's arbour. Then took he the little boy
by the hand, and led him up thereto.

When they were come to the arbour, they were very
willing to sit down, for they were all in a They sit in the
pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How "bour
sweet is rest to them that labour, and how good is the
Prince of pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them !

223

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Of this arbour I have heard much ; but I never saw it
before. But here let us beware of sleeping ; for, as I have
heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear.

Then said Mr Great-heart to the little ones, Come, my
pretty boys, how do you do ? what think you now of going

on pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least, I was

almost b.eat out of heart ; but I thank you
SliMercnd ***° ^or *ending me a hand at my need. And I

remember now what my mother has told
me, namely, that the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and
the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up
the ladder to life, than down the hill to death,

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go down the
hill is easy. But James said (for that was his name), The
Which is hardest, <|ay is coming when, in my opinion, going
up hiii or down down hill will be the hardest or all.

'Tis a good boy, said his master; thou
hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but
the little boy did blush.

Chr. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little
They refresh to sweeten your mouths while you sit here

themselves to rest yOUr JegS ? for J nave here a pjece

of pomegranate, which Mr Interpreter put in my hand
just when I came out of his doors : he gave me also a piece
of a honeycomb, and a little bottle of cordial. I thought
he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called
you a to-side. Yes, so he did, said the other ; but,
Mercy, it shall still be as I said it should, when at first we
came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good
that I have, because thou so willingly didst become my
companion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat,
both Mercy and the boys. And, said Christiana to
Mr Great-heart, sir, will you do as we ? But he
answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and presently
I shall return; much good may what you have do to
you . at home I eat the same every day. Now when they
had eaten and drank, and had chatted a little longer, their
guide said to them, The day wears away; if you think

224

CHRISTIANA'S SPIRITS

good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go,
and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to
take her bottle of cordial with her, so she r .

, i • i i I. r i • T«I Christiana for-

sent her little boy back to tetch it. 1 hen gets her bottle
said Mercy, I think this is a losing place ;
here Christian lost his roll, and here Christiana left her
bottle behind her : sir, what is the cause of this ? So their
guide made answer, and said, The cause is sleep, or forget-
fulness : some sleep when they should keep awake, and
some forget when they should remember ; and this is the
very cause why often at the resting-places some pilgrims,
in some things, come off losers. Pilgrims should watch,
and remember what they have already received, under their
greatest enjoyments; but for want of doing
so, ofttimes their rejoicing ends in tears,
and their sunshine in a cloud; witness the story of Christian
at this place.

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and
Timorous met Christian, to persuade him to go back for
fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and
before it, towards the road, a broad place, with a copy of
verses written thereon, and underneath the reason of the
raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The
verses were these :

Let him that sees this stage, take heed

Unto his heart and tongue:
Lest, if he do not, here he speed

As some have long agone.

The words underneath the verses were, This stage
was built to punish such upon who, through timorous-
ness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on pilgrim-
age. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous
were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for
endeavouring to hinder Christian in his journey.

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of
the Beloved, What shall be given unto thee, or what
shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows
of the mighty, with coals of juniper.

225 p

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions.
Now Mr Great-heart was a strong man, so he was not
afraid of a lion. But yet when they were come up to the
place where the lions were, the boys, that went before,
An emblem of were now glad to cringe behind, for they

those that go on were afraid of the lions; so they stepped

bravely when _ , . * \ . f?f .

there is no back, and went behind. At this their

shriSkrwhen guide smiled, and said, How now, my

troubles come boys, do you love to go before when no

danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon
as the lions appear ?

Now as they went up Mr Great-heart drew his sword,
with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in spite of the
-.„ . „, lions. Then there appeared one that, it

Of Urim the . . * 1 , ".

griant, and of his seems, had taken upon him to back the
lions ; and he said to the pilgrims' guide,
What is the cause of your coming hither ? Now the
name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of
his slaying of pilgrims; and he was of the race of the giants.

Great. Then said the pilgrims' guide, These women
and children are going on pilgrimage, and this is the way
they must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee and
the lions.

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go
therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to that
end will back the lions.

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the
lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back
them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and
was almost all grown over with grass.

Chr. Then said Christiana, Though the highways have
been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers
have been made in time past to walk through bypaths, it
must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen a mother
in Israel.

Grim. Then he swore by the lions but it should, and
therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have
passage there.

226

THE PORTER'S LODGE

But Great-heart their guide made first his approach
unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him A fight betwixt

with his SWOrd, that he forced him tO a Grim and Great-
heart

retreat.

Grim. Then said he that attempted to back the lions,
Will you slay me upon mine own ground ?

Great. 'Tis the King's highway that we are in, and in
His way it is that thou hast placed thy lions ; but these
women, and these children, though weak, shall hold on
their way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave
him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his
knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and
with the next he cut off an arm. Then did the giant roar
so hideously, that his voice frighted the women, and
yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the
ground. Now the lions were chained, and so of them-
selves could do nothing. Wherefore, .
when old Grim, that intended to back
them, was dead, Mr Great-heart said to the pilgrims,
Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to
you from the lions. They therefore went They pass by the
on, but the women trembled as they passed lions
by them ; the boys also looked as if they would die ; but
they all got by without further hurt.

Now then they were within sight of the Porter's
lodge, and they soon came up unto it j but they made the
more haste after this to go thither, because 'tis dangerous
travelling there in the night. So when they were come to
the gate, the guide knocked, and the They come to the
Porter cried, Who is there ? But as soon Porter's lodge
as the guide had said, It is I, he knew his voice, and came
down, for the guide had oft before that come thither as
a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he
opened the gate ; and seeing the guide standing just before
it (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him),
he said unto him, How now, Mr Great-heart, what is
your business here so late to-night ? I have brought,
said he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's

227

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

commandment, they must lodge : I had been here some
time ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that did
use to back the lions. But I, after a long and tedious
combat with him, have cut him off, and have brought the
pilgrims hither in safety.

Por. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ?
Great-heart Great. No, I will return to my Lord

attempts to go tO-night.

Chr. O sir, I know not how to be
willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage, you have
been so faithful and so loving to us. You have fought
so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling
of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us.

Mer. Then said Mercy, Oh that we might have thy

The pilgrims company to our journey's end! How

implore his com- can such poor women as we hold out in

a way so full of troubles as this way is,

without a friend and defender ?

James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys,
Pray, sir, be persuaded to go with us, and help us,
because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as
it is.

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment ; if He shall
allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly
wait upon you. But here you failed at first; for when
Help lost for ^e b^ me come thus far with you, then

want of asking you should have begged me of Him to
have gone quite through with you, and
He would have granted your request. However, at
present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy,
and my brave children, adieu.

Then the Porter, Mr Watchful, asked Christiana of her
country, and of her kindred. And she said, I came from
the City of Destruction. I am a widow woman, and my
husband is dead; his name was Christian the pilgrim.
How ! said the Porter, was he your husband ? Yes, said
she, and these are his children; and this, pointing to
Mercy, is one of my townswomen. Then the Porter

228

THE PILGRIMS ENTERTAINED

rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came
to the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-
mind ; and to her the Porter said, Go tell it within that
Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are
come hither on pilgrimage. She went in therefore, and
told it. But oh, what a noise for gladness Jo atthenoise
was there within when the damsel did but of the pilgrims
drop that word out of her mouth !

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana
stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave
said unto her, Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of
that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman, come in,
with all that are with thee. So she went in, and they
followed her that were her children and companions.
Now when they were gone in, they were had into a very
large room, where they were bidden to sit down : so they
sat down, and the chief of the house was called to see
and welcome the guests. Then they came in, and under-
standing who they were, did salute each
one with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye
vessels of the grace of God ; welcome to another °ne
us, your friends.

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the
pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made
faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions,
therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to
go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh
yourselves first with a morsel of meat ; for they had
prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce
belonging thereto, for the Porter had heard before of
their coming, and had told it to them within. So
when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a
psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But let us,
said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be
in that chamber that was my husband's when he was
here ; so they had them up thither, and they lay all in a
room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy
entered into discourse about things that were convenient.

229

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Little did I think once, -when my husband
Christ's bosom is went on pilgrimage, that I should ever

for all pilgrims a followed.

Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and
in his chamber to rest, as you do now.

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his
face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the
King with him ; and yet now I believe I shall.

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ?

Chr. Yes, 'tis, as I believe, a noise of
music, for joy that we are here.

Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the
heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here !
Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to
sleep.

So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana
Mercy did laugh said to Mercy, What was the matter that
in her sleep yOU ^id laugh in your sleep to-night ? I

suppose you were in a dream.

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you
sure I laughed ?

Chr. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but prithee, Mercy,
tell me thy dream.

Mer. I was a dreamed that I sat alone in a solitary
place, and was bemoaning of the hardness

Mercy's dream , XT

of my heart. Now I had not sat there
long, but methought many were gathered about me to
see me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they
hearkened, and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my
heart. At this some of them laughed at me, some called
me fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that,
What her dream methought I looked up and saw one com-
was ing with wings towards me. So he came

directly to me, and said, Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now
when he had heard me make my complaint, he said, Peace
be to thee ; he also wiped mine eyes with his hand-
kerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put
a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in my ears, and a

130

MERCY'S DREAM

beautiful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the
hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up,
and I followed till we came at a golden gate. Then he
knocked ; and when they within had opened, the man
went in, and I followed him up to a throne, upon which
One sat ; and He said to me, Welcome, daughter. The
place looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather
like the sun, and I thought that I saw your husband there :
so I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ?

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might to see yourself
so well. For you must give me leave to tell you that I
believe it was a good dream ; and that as you have begun
to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at
last. God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth
it not ; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep
sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed.
We need not, when a-bed, lie awake to talk with God ;
He can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to
hear His voice. Our heart ofttimes wakes when we
sleep, and God can speak to that, either by words, by
proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if one
was awake.

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope ere
long to see it fulfilled, to the making of me Mercy glad of

laugh again. her dream

Chr. I think it is now time to rise, and to know what
we must do.

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us
willingly accept of the proffer. I am the more willing to
stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these
maids : methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very
comely and sober countenances.

Chr. We shall see what they will do.

So when they were up and ready, they came down, and
they asked one another of their rest, and if it was com-
fortable or not.

Mer. Very good, said Mercy : it was one of the best
night's lodging that ever I had in my life.

231

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded
to stay here a while, you shall have what the house will
afford.

Char. Ay, and that with a very good will, said

They stay here Charity. So they consented, and stayed

sometime there about a month, or above, and

became very profitable one to another. And because

Prudence would see how Christiana had brought up her

children, she asked leave of her to cate-

to^afechis^cS-is- c^^se them. So she gave her free consent.

tiana's children Then she began at the youngest, whose

name was James.

jam«c.t.ch,sed P™d- A°d ^e said Come James,
canst thou tell me who made thee ?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the
Holy Ghost.

Prud. Good Boy. And canst thou tell who saves
thee ?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the
Holy Ghost.

Prud. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father
save thee ?

James. By His grace.

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee ?

James. By His righteousness, death and blood, and
life.

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ?

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and
by His preservation.

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be com-
mended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose I
need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest
of them cars answer them so well. I will therefore now
apply myself to the youngest next.

Prud. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name
was Joseph), will you let me catechise

Joseph catechised J r7 /> /

you?

Joseph. With all my heart.
232

PILGRIMS CLIMBING THE HILL DIFFICULTY

'Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not down here;
for a little above is the Prince's arbour/

[see p. 233.

THE CHILDREN CATECHISED

Prud. What is man ?

Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as
my brother said.

Prud. What is supposed by this word, saved ?

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into
a state of captivity and misery.

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the
Trinity ?

Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant,
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and
that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him
indeed out of this miserable state.

Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men ?

Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and
justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of His creature.

Prud. Who are they that must be saved ?

Joseph. Those that accept of His salvation.

Prud. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught thee
well, and thou hast hearkened unto what she has said unto
thee.

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest
but one :

Prud. Come, Samuel, are you willing
that I should catechise you also?

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please.

Prud. What is heaven ?

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God
dwelleth there.

Prud. What is hell t

Sam. A place and state most woeful, because it is the
dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death.

Prud. Why wouldest thou go to heaven ?

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without
weariness 5 that I may see Christ, and love Him ever-
lastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit
in me, which I can by no means here enjoy.

Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has learned
well.

233

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name
Matthew was Matthew ; and she said to him, Come,

catechised Matthew, shall I also catechise you ?

Matt. With a very good will.

Prud. I ask then, if there was ever any thing that had
a being antecedent to or before God ?

Matt. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there any thing,
excepting Himself, that had a being, until the beginning of
the first day. For in six days the Lord made heaven and
earth, the sea, and all that in them is.

Prud. What do you think of the Bible ?

Matt. It is the holy word of God.

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you
understand ?

Matt. Yes, a great deal.

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such
places therein that you do not understand ?

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that
He will please to let me know all therein that He knows
will be for my good.

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection
of the dead ?

Matt. I believe they shall rise the same that was buried ;
the same in nature, though not in corruption. And I
believe this upon a double account : first, because God has
promised it ; secondly, because He is able to perform it.

Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken
to your mother ; for she can learn you
fi™?oen upon the more. You must also diligently give ear
fhe'boys"1^ °f to what good talk you shall hear from

others ; for for your sakes do they speak
good things. Observe also, and that with carefulness,
what the heavens and the earth do teach you •, but especially
be much in the meditation of that book that was the
cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part,
my children, will teach you what I can while you are here,
and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that tend to
godly edifying.

234

MR BRISK AND MERCY

Now by that these pilgrims had been at this place a
week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good will
unto her, and his name was Mr Brisk ; a Mercy has a
man of some breeding, and that pretended sweetheart
to religion, but a man that stuck very close to the world.
So he came once, or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered
love unto her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and
therefore the more alluring.

Her mind also was to be always busying of herself in
doing; for when she had nothing to do

. c , ill t • c i Mercy s temper

for herself, she would be making or hose
and garments for others, and would bestow them upon
them that had need. And Mr Brisk, not knowing where
or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be
greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. I warrant
her a good housewife, quoth he to himself.

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that
were of the house, and inquired of them __

. . / j-j i i • Mercy inquires

concerning him, for they did know him of the maids con-
better than she. So they told her, that he cernin* Mr Brisk
was a very busy young man, and one that pretended to
religion, but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power
of that which was good.

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; for
I purpose never to have a clog to my soul.

Prudence then replied, that there needed no great
matter of discouragement to be given to him; her con-
tinuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would
quickly cool his courage.

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old work,
amaking of things for the poor. Then said Talk betwixt
he, What! always at it? Yes, said she, Mercy and Mr
either for myself or for others. And
what canst thou earn a day ? quoth he. I do these
things, said she, that I may be rich in good works,
laying up in store a good foundation against the time
to come, that I may lay hold on eternal life. Why,
prithee, what dost thou with them ? said he. Clothe the

235

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he
He forsakes her forbore to come at her again. And when
and why he was asked the reason why, he said, that

Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions.

When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell

thee that Mr Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will

raise up an ill report of thee; for, not-

Mercyinthe . , r ,. , . r ',. . ,

practice of mercy withstanding his pretence to religion, and
iJercylnThe6 his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and
SkSf °f mercy is ke are °^ temPers so different that I believe
they will never come together.

Mer. I might a had husbands afore now, though I
spake not of it to any ; but they were such as did not
like my conditions, though never did any of them find
fault with my person. So they and 1 could not agree.

Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by any further
than as to its name : the practice, which is set forth by
thy conditions, there are but few that can abide.

Mer. Wei), said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I
Mercy's resolu- W*M die a maid, or my conditions shall
tion be to me as a husband ; for I cannot

change my nature ; and to have one that lies cross to
me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I
live. I had a sister named Bountiful, that

How Mercy s . r \ \ i_

sister was served was married to one or these churls ; but

by her husband ^e an(j ^ COUJ(J never agree ; but because

my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is,
to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first
cried her down at the cross, and then turned her out of
his doors.

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you ?

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the
world is now full : but I am for none of them all.

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick,
Matthew falls and his sickness was sore upon him, for

sick he was much pained in his bowels, so that

he was with it at times, pulled as 'twere both ends together.
There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr Skill, an

236

MR. BRISK AND MERCY

So the next time he conies he finds her at her old work, amaking
of things for the pcor. Then said he, What ! always at it? '

[see p. 235.

MATTHEW FALLS SICK

ancient and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired
it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he was
entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he
concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Gripes of con-
Then he said to his mother, What diet has sc»enc«
Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet ! said Christiana, nothing
but that which is wholesome. The physician answered,
This boy has been tampering with some- The physician's
thing which lies in his maw undigested, judgment
and that will not away without means. And I tell you
he must be purged, or else he will die.

Sam. Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which
my brother did gather up and eat, so soon
as we were come from the gate that is at
the head of this way ? You know that
there was an orchard on the left hand,
on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees
hung over the wall, and my brother did pluck and did
eat.

Chr. True, my child, said Christiana, he did take
thereof and did eat : naughty boy as he was, I did chide
him, and yet he would eat thereof.

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not
wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even
the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's
orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many
have died thereof.

Chr. Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said, Oh,
naughty boy ! and oh, careless mother ! what shall I do
for my son ?

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy
may do well again, but he must purge and vomit.

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him,
whatever it costs.

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made
him a purge, but it was too weak •, 'twas

. , . r 6 j riii c , Potion prepared

said it was made of the blood or a goat, the

ashes of a heifer, and with some of the juice of hyssop.

237

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

When Mr Skill had seen that that purge was too weak,
he made him one to the purpose. 'Twas made ex carnc
The Latin I et sanguine Christij (you know physicians

borrow give strange medicines to their patients) ;

and it was made up into pills, with a promise or two,
and a proportionable quantity of salt. Now he was to
take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of
a pint of the tears of repentance.

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the
The boy loth to boy, he was loth to take it, though torn
take the physic wjtn the gripes as if he should be pulled
in pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you must take
it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. I must
have you take it, said his mother. I shall vomit it up
again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr
Skill, how does it taste ? It has no ill taste, said the
_. doctor ; and with that she touched one of

The mother •««••« . r « x-n

tastes it and per- the pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh,
Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter
than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest
thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life,
take it. So with much ado, after a short prayer for the
blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly
with him. It caused him to purge; it caused him to
sleep and rest quietly; it put him into a fine heat and
breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes.

A word of God in S° in Ht?le time he gOt UP» End Walke<*

the hand of his about with a staff, and would go from
room to room, and talk with Prudence,
Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and how he was
healed.

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr
Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains
and care to and of my child ? And he said, You must
pay the Master of the College of Physicians, according
to rules made in that case and provided.

Chr. But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for
else ?

238

PRUDENCE AND MATTHEW

Skill. It is a universal pill ; 'tis good against all the
diseases that pilgrims are incident to ; and This pill a nni-
when it is well prepared, it will keep versa! remedy
good time out of mind.

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them ; for
if I can get these, I will never take other physic.

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as
well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it,
and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic
as he should, it will make him live for ever. But good
Christiana, thou must give these pills no

' . ., r , r In a glass of the

other way but as 1 have prescribed; tor tears of repent-
if you do, they will do no good. So he ance
gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and
for Mercy : and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any
more green plums, and kissed them, and went his way.

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that
if at any time they would, they should ask her some ques-
tions that might be profitable, and she would say something
to them.

Matt. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her,

why for the most part physic should be

t . J r r j Of physic

bitter to our palates.

Prud. To show how unwelcome the word of God and
the effects thereof are to a carnal heart.

Matt. Why does physic, if it does of the effects of
good, purge, and cause that we vomit ? physic

Prud. To show that the word, when it works effec-
tually, cleanseth the heart and mind. For look, what the
one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul.

Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame of
our fire go upwards, and by seeing the of fire, and of the
beams and sweet influences of the sun sun
strike downwards ?

Prud. By the going up of the fire we are taught to
ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And by the
sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences down-
wards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world,

239

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

though high, reaches down with His grace and love to us
below.

Matt. Where have the clouds their
Of the cloud. water?

Prud. Out of the sea.

Matt. What may we learn from that ?

Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from
God.

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the
earth ?

Prud. To show that ministers should give out what
they know of God to the world.

Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by

Of th« rainbow the svm ?

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is
confirmed to us in Christ.

Matt. Why do the springs come from
the sea to us through the earth ?

Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us
through the body of Christ.

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the
tops of high hills ?

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up
in some that are great and mighty, as well as in many that
are poor and low.

Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon

Of the candle the Candle-wick ?

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the
heart, there will be no true light of life in us.

Matt. Why are the wick, and tallow and all, spent to
maintain the light of the candle ?

Prud. To show that body and soul, and all should be
at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain in good
condition, that grace of God that is in us.

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood,
and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loveth

240

THE SIGHTS SHOWN

His young (His people), as to save them from death by
His blood.

Matt. What may one karn by hearing

. » Of toe code

the cock to crow ?

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's re-
pentance. The cock's crowing shows also, that day is
coming on : let, then, the crowing of the cock put thee in
mind of that last and terrible day of judgment.

Now about this time their month was out ; wherefore
they signified to those of the house, that 'twas convenient
for them to up and be going. Then said Joseph to his
mother, It is convenient that you forget not to send to the
house of Mr Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr
Great-heart should be sent unto us, that Theweakma
he may be our conductor the rest of our someTinfes'caifthe
way. Good boy, said she, I had almost
forgot. So she drew up a petition, and prayed Mr Watch-
ful the porter to send it by some fit man to her good friend
Mr Interpreter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen
the contents of the petition, said to the messenger, Go, tell
them that I will send him.

When the family where Christiana was saw that they had
a purpose to go forward, they called the They provide to be
whole house together, to give thanks to gone on their way
their King for sending of them such profitable guests
as these. Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall
we not show thee something, according as our custom is
to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when
thou art upon the way ? So they took Christiana, her
children, and Mercy into the closet, and
showed them one of the apples that Eve
did eat of, and that she also did give to her husband, and
that for the eating of which they both were turned
out of paradise, and asked her what she thought that
was. Then Christiana said, 'Tis food or poison, I
know not which. So they opened the A sight of sin ^
matter to her, and she held up her hands amazing:
and wondered.

241 9

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then they had her to a place and showed her Jacob's

ladder. Now at that time there were some

angels ascending upon it. So Christiana

looked and looked to see the angels go up ; and so

did the rest of the company. Then they were going

into another place, to show them something else; but

James said to his mother, Pray bid them stay here a little

A sight of Christ is longer, for this is a curious sight. So they

taking turned again, and stood feeding their eyes

with this so pleasing a prospect.

After this they had them into a place where did hang up

a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana

take it down ; for, said they, You shall have

it with you, for 'tis of absolute necessity that you should,

that you may lay hold of that within the veil, and stand

stedfast in case you should meet with turbulent weather ;

so they were glad thereof.

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon
Of Abraham's which Abraham our father offered up Isaac

offering up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the
wood, the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen
to this very day. When they had seen it, they held up
their hands, and blessed themselves, and said, Oh ! what a
man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself,
was Abraham !

After they had showed them all these things, Prudence
Prudence's took them into the dining-room, where

virginals stood a pair of excellent virginals;1 so

she played upon them, and turned what she had showed
them into this excellent song, saying,

Eve's apple we have showed you ;

Of that be you aware :
You have seen Jacob's ladder too,

Upon which angels are.
An anchor you received have ;

But let not these suffice,
Until with Abra'm you have gave

Your best a sacrifice.

1 A musical instrument for young women.
242

THE PILGRIMS GO ON

Now about this time one knocked at the door. So the
Porter opened, and behold, Mr Great- Mr Great-heart
heart was there : but when he was come comes again
in, what joy was there ! For it came now fresh again
into their minds how but a while ago he had slain old
Grim Bloody-man, the giant, and had delivered them from
the lions.

Then said Mr Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy,
My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of

/ . / He brings a token

wine, and also some parched corn, together from his Lord with

with a couple of pomegranates : He has also

sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way.

Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and
Prudence and Piety went along with them. When they
came at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any of late
went by. He said, No ; only one some time since, who
also told me, that of late there had been
a great robbery committed on the King's
highway as you go. But, he saith, the thieves are taken,
and will shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana
and Mercy were afraid, but Matthew said, Mother, fear
nothing as long as Mr Great-heart is to go with us, and
to be our conductor.

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much
obliged to you for all the kindnesses that christiana takes
you have showed me since I came hither 5 her leave of the
and also for that you have been so loving Porter
and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your
kindness ; wherefore, pray, as a token of my respects to
you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold angel l
in his hand, and he made her low obeisance, and said,
Let thy garments be always white ; and The p0rter'«
let thy head want no ointment. Let blessing
Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be few.
And to the boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts,

1 A gold angel was a coin of the value of ten shillings, and according
to the comparative value of money in Bunyan's time, equal at least to a
guinea at the present time.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and follow after godliness with them that are grave
and wise, so shall you put gladness into your mother's
heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. So
they thanked the Porter, and departed.

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until
they were come to the brow of the hill; where Piety
bethinking herself, cried out, Alas! I have forgot what
I intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions :
I will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it.
While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard in a
grove a little way off on the right hand, a most curious
melodious note, with words much like these :

Through all my life Thy favour ia

So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore

My dwelling-place shall be.

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer
it, saying,

For why ? The Lord our God is good |

His mercy is for ever sure ;
His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure.

So Christiana asked Prudence what 'twas that made
those curious notes. They are, said she, our country
birds : they sing these notes but seldom, except it be
at the spring, when the flowers appear, and the sun
shines warm, and then you may hear them all day long.
I often, said she, go out to hear them; we also oft-
times keep them tame in our house. They are very
fine company for us when we are melancholy : also they
make the woods, and groves, and solitary places desirous
to be in.

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to
Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee
a scheme of all those things that thou hast
them at parting seen at our house, upon which thou mayest
look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those
things again to remembrance for thy edification and comfort.

244

VALLEY OF HUMILIATION

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley
of Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was
slippery ; but they were very careful ; so they got down
pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety
said to Christiana, This is the place where Christian your
husband met with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they
had that dreadful fight that they had : I know you cannot but
have heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long as
you have here Mr Great-heart to be your guide and
conductor, we hope you will fare the better. So when
these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of
their guide, he went forward, and they went after.

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, We need not be so
afraid of this valley, for here is nothing to

3 ' . » Mr Great-heart at

hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves. theVaiieyaf
'Tis true Christian did here meet with HumiHation
Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore combat : but that
fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going
down the hill ; for they that get slips there, must look for
combats here. And hence it is, that this valley has got
so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear
that some frightful thing has befallen such a one in such
a place, are of an opinion that that place is haunted with
some foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit
of their doing that such things do befall The reason why
them there. This Valley of Humiliation Christian was
is of itself as fruitful a place as any the
crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit
upon it, we might find somewhere hereabout something
that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly
beset in this place.

Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a
pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ;
let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found
there written, Let Christian's slips before A piljar wlth an
he came hither, and the battles that he met Ascription on it
with in this place, be a warning to those that come after.
Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there was some-

245

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

thing hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason
why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? Then
turning himself to Christiana, he said, No disparagement
to Christian more than to many others whose hap and lot
his was. For 'tis easier going up than down this hill, and
that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the
world. But we will leave the good man ; he is at rest ;
he also had a brave victory over his enemy. Let Him
grant that dwelleth above that we fare no worse, when
we come to be tried, than he.

But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation.

This valley a ^ *S t^ie ^est anc^ HlOSt fruitful piece of

brave place ground in all those parts. It is fat ground,

and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man
was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he
knew not any thing before thereof, and if he also delighted
himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that that
would be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley
is ; also how beautiful with lilies. I have also known
many labouring men that have got good estates in this
Valley of Humiliation ; for God resisteth the proud, but

Men thrive in the giv€S m°re» mOre graCG tO the h"mble.

Valley of Humiiia- For indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and
doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also
have wished that the next way to their Father's house
were here, that they might be troubled no more with
either hills or mountains to go over, but the way is the
way, and there's an end.

Now as they were going along and talking, they espied
a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very
mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favoured counte-
nance ; and as he sat by himself he sung. Hark, said Mr
Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy saith. So they
hearkened, and he said,

He that is down needs fear no fall;

He that is low, no pride:
He that is humble ever shall

Have God to be his guide.
246

THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG
* And as he sat by himself he sung/

[see p. 246.

SHEPHERD'S BOY SINGING

I am content with what I have,

Little be it or much ;
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,

Because Thou savest such.

Fulness to such a burden is,

That go on pilgrimage ;
Here little, and hereafter bliss,

Is best from age to age.

Then said their guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare
to say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of
that herb called heart's ease in his bosom, than he that is
clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our
discourse.

In this valley our Lord formerly had His country-house :
He loved much to be here. He loved also ~, .

c -rt r 11 Christ when m the

to walk these meadows, tor He round the flesh had His

i -n . j i i 11 country-house

air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall in the Valley of
be free from the noise and from the hurry- Humiliation
ings of this life : all states are full of noise and confusion ;
only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary
place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his
contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a
valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim's
life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here
with Apollyon, and to enter with him a brisk encounter,
yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with
angels here, have found pearls here, and have in this place
found the words of life.

Did I say our Lord had here in former days His country-
house, and that He loved here to walk ? I will add ; — in
this place, and to the people that love and trace these
grounds, He has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully
paid them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the
way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their
pilgrimage.

Sam. Now as they went on, Samuel said to Mr Great-
heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and
Apollyon had their battle j but whereabout was the fight ?
for I perceive this valley is large.

247

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Great. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a
place yonder before us, in a narrow passage,

Forgetful Green .' Jn, ri-o AJ-J

just beyond r orgetful Green. And indeed
that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For
if at any time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when
they forget what favours they have received, and how un-
worthy they are of them. This was the place also where
others have been hard put to it. But more of the place
when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to
this day there remains either some sign of the battle or
some monument to testify that such a battle there was
fought.

Mer. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this
Humility a sweet valley as I have been anywhere else in all
grace our journey ; the place, methinks, suits

with my spirit. I love to be in such places, where there
is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with wheels.
Methinks, here one may, without much molestation,
be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has
done, and to what the King has called him. Here one
may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's spirit,
until one's eyes become as the fishpools of Heshbon.
They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca,
make it a well •, the rain that God sends down from
heaven upon them that are here, also filleth the pools.
This valley is that from whence also the King will
give to His their vineyards, and they that go through
it shall sing, as Christian did for all he met with
Apollyon.

Great. 'Tis true, said their guide ; I have gone through
An experiment this valley many a time, and never was
of lt better than when here. I have also been

a conduct to several pilgrims, and they have confessed
the same. To this man will I look, saith the King,
even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and
trembleth at My word.

Now they were come to the place where the afore-
mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to

248

VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place ; on
this ground Christian stood, and up there
came Apollyon against him. And, look, chdftSfa^dYhe
did not I tell you, here is some of your fiend did fight

i i_ i» i i j i i . Some signs of the

husband s blood upon these stones to this battle remain
day. Behold, also, how here and there are
yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of
Apollyon's broken darts. See also how they did beat the
ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their
places against each other ; how also with their by-blows
they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian
did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as
could, had he been here, even Hercules himself. When
Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley,
that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto
which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also stands a
monument on which is engraven this A monument of
battle and Christian's victory, to his fame Christian's victory
throughout all ages. So because it stood just on the way-
side before them, they stepped to it, and read the writing,
which word for word was this :

Hard by here was a battle fought,

Most strange, and yet most true;
Christian and Apollyon sought

Each other to subdue.

The man so bravely played the man,

He made the fiend to fly ;
Of which a monument I stand,

The same to testify.

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the
borders of the Shadow of Death, and this valley was longer
than the other; a place also most strangely haunted with evil
things, as many are able to testify : but these women and
children went the better through it, because they had day-
light,, and because Mr Great-heart was their conductor.

Wnen they were entered upon this valley, they
thought that they heard a groaning as

c i i i . Groanintrs heard

of dead men; a very great groaning.
They thought also they did hear words of lamentation,

249

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

spoken as of some in extreme torment. These things
made the boys to quake : the women also looked pale
and wan ; but their guide bid them be of good comfort.

So they went on a little further, and they thought that
The ground tnev f^* tne ground begin to shake under

shakes them, as if some hollow place was there :

they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but no-
thing as yet appeared/ Then said the boys, Are we not yet
at the end of this doleful place ? But the guide also bid
them be of good courage, and look well to their feet ; lest
haply, said he, you be taken in some snare.

Now James began to be sick; but I think the cause
James sick with thereof was fear : so his mother gave him
fear some of that glass of cordial that she had

given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills
that Mr Skill had prepared, and the boy began to revive.
Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of
the valley ; and then Christiana said, Methinks I see some-
thing yonder upon the road before us, a

The fiend appears •• r i_ i T i

thing or a shape such as 1 have not seen.
Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it ? An ugly thing,
child ; an ugly thing, said she. But, mother, what is it
The pilgrims are like ? said he. 'Tis like I cannot tell
afraid what, said she ; and now, it was but a little

way off. Then said she, It is nigh.

Well, well, said Mr Great-heart, let them that are most
Great-hearten- afraid keep close to me. So the fiend
courages them came on, and the conductor met it; but
when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their
sights. Then remembered they what had been said some
time ago, Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed.

But they had not gone far before Mercy, looking behind her,

saw, as she thought, something most like a

lion, and it came a great padding pace

after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every

roar that it gave, it made all the valley echo, and all their

hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their

250

IN THE VALLEY

guide. So it came up, and Mr Great-heart went behind,
and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also
came on apace, and Mr Great-heart addressed himself to
give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined
that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and
came no further.

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go
before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a
pit the whole breadth of the way; and A pit and
before they could be prepared to go over darkness
that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so that
they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! now
what shall we do ? But their guide made answer, Fear
not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this
also : so they stayed there, because their path was marred.
They then also thought that they did hear more apparently
the noise and rushing of the enemies ; the fire also, and
the smoke of the pit, were much easier to be discerned.
Then saidv Christiana to Mercy, Now I see Christiana now
w,hat my poor husband went through. I knows what her
hjive heard much of this place, but I never
was here afore now. Poor man ! he went here all alone
&i the night ; he had night almost quite through the way ;
ilso these fiends were busy about him, as if they would
jjave torn him in pieces. Many have spoke of it ; but
none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death
should mean until they come in it themselves. The heart
knows its own bitterness ; and a stranger intermeddleth
not with its joy. To be here is a fearful thing.

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, or
like going down into the deep. This is like being in
the heart of the sea, and like going

, i r i • Great-heart's reply

down to the bottoms or the mountains.
Now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about
us for ever. But let them that walk in darkness and
have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and
stay upon their God. For my part, as I have told
you already, I have gone often through this valley,

251

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and have been much harder put to it than now I am : and
yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am
not mine own saviour ; but I trust we shall have a good
deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can
lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only these,
but all the satans in hell.

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and

deliverance, for there was now no let in

their way : no, not there, where but now

they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got

through the valley. So they went on still, and beheld great

stinks and loathsome smells, to the great

annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to

Christiana, There is not such pleasant being here as at the

gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last.

Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go
One of the through here as it is to abide here always ;

boys reply ancj for aught I know, one reason why we

must go this way to the house prepared for us is, that
our home might be made the sweeter to us.

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast now
spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again,
said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way better
than ever I did in all my life. Then said the guide, We
shall be out by and by.

So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the
end of this valley as yet ? Then said the guide, Look to
your feet, for you shall presently be among the snares : so
they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were
troubled much with the snares. Now when they were
come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the
ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn.
Then said the guide. That is one Heedless.

Heedless is slain, . 6 , . ' .

and Take-heed that was agoing this way : he has lam there
preserved a great ^j^ There was one Take-heed

with him when he was taken and slain ; but he escaped
their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed
hereabout, and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to

252

GIANT MAUL

set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide.
Poor Christian ! It was a wonder that he here escaped ;
but he was beloved of his God : also he had a good heart
of his own, or else he could never a done it.

Now they drew towards the end of the way ; and just
there were Christian had seen the cave when he went by,
out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul a ^ant he
Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with quarrels with"
sophistry ; and he called Great-heart by his reat-heart
name, and said unto him, How many times have you been
forbidden to do these things ? Then said Mr Great-heart,
What things ? What things ! quoth the giant ; you know
what things : but I will put an end to your trade.

But pray, said Mr Great-heart, before we fall to it, let
us understand wherefore we must fight. Now the women
and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do.
Quoth the giant, You rob the country, and rob it with the
worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr Great-
heart ; come to particulars, man.

Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a kid-
napper; thou gatherest up women and

*lf. , ° . , *. God's ministers

children, and earnest them into a strange counted as
country, fd^-the weakening of my master's kldnaPPers
kingdom. I But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of
the God or4ieaven ; my business is to persuade sinners to
repentance."! I am commanded to do my endeavour to turn
men, women, and children, frocnr^larkness to light, and
from the power of Satan to God 5 and if _. . .

... . i t i i *"•— J The eiant and

this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, Mr Great-heart
let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt.

Then the giant came up, and Mr Great-heart went to
meet him ; and as he went he drew his sword, but the
giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it,
and at the first blow the giant struck Mr
Great-heart down upon one of his knees, ™ayers°<£Ssome-
With that the women and children cried. fJSScriei**1011*
So Mr Great-heart recovering himself,
laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant

253

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

a wound in his arm. Thus he fought for the space of an
hour, to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the
giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron.

Then they sat down to rest them ; but Mr Great-heart
betook him to prayer. Also the women and children
did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle
did last.

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both
fell to it again, and Mr Great-heart, with a full blow, fetched
The eiant the giant down to the ground. Nay, hold,

struck down jet me recover, quoth he. So Mr Great-

heart fairly let him get up, so to it they went again j and
the giant missed but little of all to breaking Mr Great-
heart's skull with his club.

Mr Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat
of his spirit, and pierced him under the fifth rib. With
He is slam *^at f^e g'ant began to faint, and could

and his head hold up his club no longer. Then Mr

Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote
the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women
and children rejoiced, and Mr Great-heart also praised God
for the deliverance he had wrought.

When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar,
and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote under-
neath in letters that passengers might read :

He that did wear this head was one

That pilgrims did misuse :
He stopt their way, he spared none,

But did them all abuse :
Until that I Great-heart arose,

The pilgrims' guide to be ;
Until that I did him oppose,

That was their enemy.

Now I saw that they went to the ascent that was a
little way off cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims. That
was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of
Faithful his brother. Wherefore, here they sat down and
rested. They also here did eat and drink, and make merry,
for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous

254

PILGRIMS AND OLD HONEST

an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked
the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. Then
said Mr Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh ; yet that
also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is
at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and
shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last.

Chr. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw
him come with his club ?

Great. It is my duty, said he, to distrust mine own
ability, that I may have reliance on Him Discourse of
that is stronger than all. the fi«ht

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you
down to the ground at the first blow ?

Great. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master
Himself was served, and yet He it was that conquered at
last.

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I
think God has been wonderful good unto Matthew here
us, both in bringing us out of this valley, admires God's

i • i i • . c i i r • goodness

and in delivering us out or the hand or this
enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we should dis-
trust our God any more, since He has now, and in such a
place as this, given us such testimony of His love as this.
Then they got up and went forward.

Now a little before them stood an oak, and under it,
when they came to it, they found an old Old Honest
pilgrim fast asleep. They knew that he asleep under
was a pilgrim, by his clothes, and his staff,
and his girdle.

So the guide, Mr Great-heart, awaked him ; and the
old gentleman, as he lift up his eyes, cried out, What's
the matter ? who are you ? and what is your business here ?

Great. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are none but
friends. Yet the old man gets up, and One saint some_
stands upon his guard, and will know of times takesanother
them what they were. Then said the forb
guide, My name is Great-heart : I am the guide of these
pilgrims, which are going to the Celestial Country.

255

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Hon. Then said Mr Honest, I cry you mercy : I feared
that you had been ot the company of those

Talk between J . *. •» _ . _

Great-heart that some time ago did rob Little-faith of

his money ; but, now I look better about
me, I perceive you are honester people.

Great. Why, what would or could you a done to a
helped yourself, if indeed we had been of that company ?

Hon. Done ? why, I would have fought as long as
breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you
could never have given me the worst on't ; for a Christian
can never be overcome unless he shall yield of himself.

Great. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide ; for
by this I know that thou art a cock of the right kind, for
thou hast said the truth.

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest what
true pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that we are the
soonest overcome of any.

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me
crave your name, and the name of the place you came
from.

Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the town
Whence Mr °f Stupidity ; it lieth about four degrees

Honest came beyond the City of Destruction.

Great. Oh ! are you that countryman then ? I deem
I have half a guess of you ; your name is old Honesty, is
it not ?

Hon. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not
Honesty in the abstract, but Honest is my name 5 and I
wish that my nature shall agree to what I am called. But,
sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am
such a man, since I came from such a place ?

Great. I had heard of you before by my Master, for

He knows all things that are done on the earth. But I have

stupefied opes are °?ten wondered that any should come from

worse than those your place ; for your town is worse than

is the City of Destruction itself.

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are
more cold and senseless. But were a man in a mountain

256

DEATH OF GIANT MAUL

'With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club
no longer. Then Mr. Great'heart seconded his blow, and

smote the head of the giant from his shoulders/

[see p. 254.

OLD HONEST'S BLESSING

of ice, yet if the Sun of righteousness will arise upon
him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus it hath
been with me.

Great. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it ; for I
know the thing is true.

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a
holy kiss of charity, and asked them their names, and how
they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage.

Chr. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you
have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these
four were his children. But can you think Old Honest and
how the old gentleman was taken when she Christiana talk
told him who she was ? He skipped, he smiled, and
blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying :

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of his
travels and wars which he underwent in He also talks
his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, with the boys
the name of your husband rings all over these parts of
the world : his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his
sincerity under all, have made his name famous. Then
he turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names,
which they told him. And then said he unto them,
Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice,
but virtue. Samuel, said he, be thou like Old Mr Honest's
Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and blessing on them
prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's
house, chaste and one that flees from temptation. And,
James, be thou like James the just, and like James the
brother of our Lord. Then they told him of Mercy, and how
she had left her town and her kindred to come along with
Christiana, and with her sons. At that the old honest man
said, Mercy is thy name : by mercy shalt He biesseth
thou be sustained and carried through all Mercy
those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou
shalt come thither where thou shalt look the Fountain of
mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide
Mr Great-heart was very much pleased, and smiled upon
his companion.

257 R

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Now, as they walked along together the guide asked the
Talk of one Mr °^ gentleman, if he did not know one
Fearing Mr Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out

of his parts.

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had
the root of the matter in him : but he was one of the most
troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days.

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a
very right character of him.

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; I
was with him most an end ; when he first began to think
of what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him.

Great. I was his guide from my Master's house to the
gates of the Celestial City.

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one.

Great. I did so; but I could very well bear it j for men
of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of
such as he was.

Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and
how he managed himself under your conduct.

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should come
ari short of whither he had a desire to go.

troublesome8 Everything frightened him that he heard

pilgrimage anybody speak of, that had but the least

appearance of opposition in it. I heard that he lay roar-
ing at the Slough of Despond for above

His behaviour at & , , r . . .

the siough of a month together ; nor durst he, for all he

Despond gaw severa| gO over before him, venture,

though they many of them offered to lend him their hand.
He would not go back again neither. The Celestial City,
— he said he should die if he came not to it ; and yet was
dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw
that anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at
the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you,
one sunshiny morning, I do not know how, he ventured,
and so got over ; but when he was over, he would scarcely
believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his
mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or

258

TALK OF MR FEARING

else he could never have been as he was. So he came up
to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the
head of this way, and there also he stood His behaviour at
a good while before he would adventure to the *ate
knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back,
and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy.
For, for all he got before some to the gate, yet many of
them went in before him. There the poor man would
stand shaking and shrinking; I dare say it would have
pitied one's heart to have seen him. Nor would he go
back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on
the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; then
one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He that
opened, stepped out after him, and said, Thou trembling
one, what wantest thou ? With that he fell down to the
ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so
faint, so he said to him, Peace be to thee ; up, for I have
set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed.
With that he got up, and went in trembling ; and when he
was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he
had been entertained there awhile, as you know how the
manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way
he should take. So he came till he came to our house ;
but as he behaved himself at the gate, so His behaviour at
he did at my Master the Interpreter s door, the interpreter's
He lay thereabout in the cold a good while,
before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not go
back ; and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he
had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master to receive
him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to
allow him a stout and valiant conduct, because he was
himself so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet for all that he
was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down
thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved ; yea,
so great was his dejection, that though he saw several
others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture.
At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiv-
ing a man to be up and down about the door, I went out

259

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

to him, and asked what he was ; but, poor man, the water
stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he wanted. I went
therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the
thing to our Lord : so He sent me out again, to entreat
him to come in ; but I dare say, I had hard work to do it.
HOW he was en- At last he came in ; and I will say that for
tertained there my Lord, he carried it wonderful lovingly
to him. There were but a few good bits at the table, but
some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented
the note ; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire
should be granted. So when he had been there a good while,
he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more corn-
He is a nttie en- fortable. For my Master, you must know,
couragedatthein- is one of very tender bowels, especially to

terpreter's house them ^ are afraid . wherefore he carried

it so towards him, as might tend most to his encourage-
ment. Well, when he had had a sight of the things of the
place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city,
my Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle
of cordial, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we
set forward, and I went before him ; but the man was but
of few words, only he would sigh aloud.

When we were come to the place where the three
He was greatly fellows were hanged, he said that he
s^ttiT^bbet doubted that that would be his end also.
buTcheefy when Only he seemed glad when he saw the
he saw the cross CrQSS and the Sepulchre. There I confess

he desired to stay a little to look ; and he seemed for a
while after to be a little cheery. When he came at the
Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much
fear the lions : for you must know that his trouble was
not about such things as those; his fear was about his
acceptance at last.

I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think before he was
willing. Also when he was in, I brought him acquainted
Dumpish at the with the damsels that were of the place ;
house Beautiful but he was ashamed to make himself much
for company. He desired much to be alone ; yet he

260

GREAT-HEART AND MR. FEARING

* J thought I should have lost my man— he was ready
to die for fear/

[see p. 261

TALK OF MR FEARING

always loved good talk, and often would get behind the
screen to hear it. He also loved much to see ancient
things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told
me afterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses
from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of
the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold to ask.

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down
the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he He went down
went down as well as ever I saw a man in into, and was very
my life ; for he cared not how mean he ^a?ieynofIHumiiia-
was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, tion
I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley
and him •, for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage
than when he was in that valley.

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss
the very flowers that grew in this valley. He would now
be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking
to and fro in this valley.

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of
the Shadow of Death, I thought I should
have lost my man: not for that he had
any inclination to go back ; that he always
abhorred ; but he was ready to die for
fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins
will have me ! cried he •, and I could not beat him out on't.
He made such a noise, and such an outcry here, that had
they but heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to
come and fall upon us.

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was
as quiet when he went through it, as ever I knew it
before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now
a special check from our Lord, and a command not to
meddle until Mr Fearing was passed over it.

It would be too tedious to tell you of all : we will
therefore only mention a passage or two more. When
he was come at Vanity Fair, I thought he His behaviour at
would have fought with all the men in the VanitT Fair
fair. I feared there we should both have been knocked

261

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon
the Enchanted Ground he also was very wakeful. But
when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there
again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he
should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face
with comfort, that he had come so many miles to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable ;
— the water of that river was lower at this time than ever
I saw it in all my life ; so he went over at last, not much
His boldness at above wetshod. When he was going up
last to the gate Mr Great-heart began to take

his leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above.
So he said, I shall, I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I
saw him no more.

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last ?

Great Yes, yes, I never had a doubt about him. He was
a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low,
and that madehislifesoburdensometohimself,and so trouble-
some to others. He was, above many, tender of sin : he was
so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny
himself of that which was lawful, because he would not offend.

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good
man should be all his days so much in the dark ?

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One

Reason why good is> the . wise G°d wil1 have 5t SO : SOme
men are so in the must pipe, and Some DlUSt WCCp. Now

Mr Fearing was one that played upon
this bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose
notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are :
though indeed some say, the bass is the ground of music.
And for my part, I care not at all for that profession that
begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the
musician usually touches, is the bass, when he intends to
put all in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when
He sets the soul in tune for Himself. Only here was the
imperfection of Mr Fearing ; he could play upon no other
music but this, till towards his latter end.

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening
262

TALK OF MR FEARING

of the wits of young readers, and because in the Book of
the Revelation, the saved are compared to a company of
musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps, and
sing their songs before the throne.

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by
the relation you have given of him. Difficulties, lions,
01 Vanity Fair, he feared not at all ; 'twas only sin, death,
and hell, that were to him a terror, because he had some
doubts about his interest in that celestial country.

Great. You say right ; those were the things that
were his troublers : and they, as you have

... c J\ J A close about him

well observed, arose from the weakness
of his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to
the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that,
as the proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had it
stood in his way ; but the things with which he was
oppressed, no man ever yet could shake off with ease.

Chr. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr Fearing
has done me good : I thought nobody had Christiana's sen-
been like me. But I see there was some tence
semblance 'twixt this good man and I : only we differed
in two things. His troubles were so great, they broke
out ; but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon
him, they made him that he could not knock at the houses
provided for entertainment 5 but my trouble was always
such as made me knock the louder.

Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that
something of him has also dwelt in me.
For I have ever been more afraid of the
lake, and the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been
of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I have the
happiness to have a habitation there ! 'Tis enough, though
I part with all the world to win it.

Matt. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that
made me think that I was far from having Matthew's sen-
that within me that accompanies salvation. tence
But if it was so with such a good man as he, why may it
not also go well with me ?

263

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

James. No fears, no grace, said James. Though there
is not always grace where there is the fear
Jan of hell, yet to be sure there is no grace

where there is no fear of God.

Great. Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark. For
the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and to be
sure they that want the beginning have neither middle nor
end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr
Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell.

Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear

Thy God, and wast afraid
Of doing any thing, while here,
Their farewell That would have thee betrayed,
about him And didst thou fear the lake and pit ?

Would others do so too !
For, as for them that want thy wit,
They do themselves undo.

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk. For after

Mr Great-heart had madean end with Mr Fearing, Mr Honest

began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr Self-will.

He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, said

Mr Honest; but I persuade myself he never

came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way.

Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it ?

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would
Old Honest had always be like himself, self-willed. He
talked with him neither cared for man, nor argument, nor
yet example ; what his mind prompted him to, that he
would do, and nothing else could he be got to.

Great. Pray what principles did he hold ? for I suppose
you can tell.

Hon. He held, that a man might follow the vices as
well as the virtues of the pilgrims; and that

Self-will s opinions .r, ,. , , , , , i j f & . «

if he did both, he should be certainly saved.
Great. How? If he had said, 'tis possible for the
best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of the
virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been blamed ;
for indeed we are exempted from no vice absolutely, but
on condition that we watch and strive. But this I perceive

264

TALK OF SELF-WILL

is not the thing; but if I understand you right, your
meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that it was allow-
able so to be.

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and practised.

Great. But what grounds had he for his so saying ?

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.

Great. Prithee, Mr Honest, present us with a few
particulars.

Hon. So I will. He said, to have to do with other
men's wives had been practised by David, God's beloved,
and therefore he could do it. He said, to have more
women than one was a thing that Solomon practised, and
therefore he could do it. He said, that Sarah and the godly
midwives of Egypt lied, and so did saved Rahab, and
therefore he could do it. He said, that the disciples went
at the bidding of their Master, and took away the owner's
ass, and therefore he could do so too. He said, that
Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of guile
and dissimulation, and therefore he could do so too.

Great. High base indeed ! And are you sure he was
of this opinion ?

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture
for it, bring argument for it, etc.

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allow-
ance in the world !

Hon. Tou must understand me rightly : he did not say
that any man might do this ; but that those that had the
virtues of those that did such things, might also do the same.

Great. But what more false than such a conclusion ?
For this is as much as to say, that because good men here-
tofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance
to do it of a presumptuous mind : or if, because a child,
by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone,
fell down and so defiled itself in mire, therefore he might
wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who
could a thought that any one could so far a been
blinded by the power of lust ? But what is written must
be true; — they stumble at the word, being disobedient,

265

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

whereunto also they were appointed. His supposing

that such may have the godly men's virtues, who addict

themselves to their vices, is also a delusion

Eating- up the sin as strong as the other. To eat up the

of God s people is . _ ° . . _ '

no sign of one that sin of God s people is no sign of one that
theirs^frtuwwlth is possessed with their virtues. Nor can
I believe that one that is of this opinion,
can at present have faith or love in him. But I know you
have made strong objections against him ; prithee what
can he say for himself?

Hon. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion
seems abundantly more honest than to do it, and yet hold
contrary to it in opinion.

Great. A very wicked answer. For though to let
loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against such
things, is bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do,
is worse: the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other
pleads them into the snare.

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have
not this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pilgrimage
of so little esteem as it is.

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be
lamented : but he that feareth the King of paradise shall
come out of them all.

Chr. There are strange opinions in the world. I know
one that said, 'twas time enough to repent when they came
to die.

Great. Such are not over-wise ; that man would a
been loth, might he have had a week to run twenty miles in
for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last hour
of that week.

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them
that count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I am,
as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this
road many a day ; and I have taken notice of many things.

I have seen some that have set out as if they would
drive all the world afore them, who yet have in few
days died as they in the wilderness, and so never got

266

THE HOUSE OF GAIUS

sight of the promised land. I have seen some that have
promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims, and
that one would a thought could not have lived a day,
that have yet proved very good pilgrims. I have seen
some that have run hastily forward, that again have, after
a little time, run as fast just back again. I have seen
some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at
first, that after a while have spoken as much against it.
I have heard some, when they first set out for paradise,
say positively there is such a place, who, when they have
been almost there, have come back again, and said there
is none. I have heard some vaunt what they would do in
case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false
alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all.

Now as they were thus on their way, there came one
running to meet them, and said, Gentle- Fresh news of
men, and you of the weaker sort, if you trouble
love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you.

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, They be the three
that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we
are ready for them : so they went on Great-heart'*
their way. Now they looked at every resolution
turning when they should a met with the villains ; but
whether they heard of Mr Great-heart, or whether they
had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims.

Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her
children, because they were weary. Then Christiana wisheth
said Mr Honest, There is one a little for an inn
before us, where a very honourable disciple, one Gaius,
dwells. So they all concluded to turn in
thither; and the rather, because the old
gentleman gave him so good a report. So when they came
to the door, they went in, not knocking, They enter into
for folks use not to knock at the door of his house
an inn. Then they called for the master of the house,
and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie
there that night.

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men ; for my
267

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana,
Gaius entertains Mercy, and the boys, the more glad, for
them, and how that tne innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims.
So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for
Christiana and her children and Mercy, and another for
Mr Great-heart and the old gentleman.

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, Good Gaius, what
hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far
to-day, and are weary.

Gaius. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently
go out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be
welcome to, if that will content.

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in the
house ; for as much as I have proved thee, thou art never
destitute of that which is convenient.

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name

was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready
Gaius'scook r ., 9 «?. , J

supper for so many pilgrims. This done,
he came up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are
welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to
entertain you ; and while supper is making ready, if you
please, let us entertain one another with some good dis-
course ; so they all said, Content.

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged
Talk between matron ? and whose daughter is this young

Gaius and his , , Jo

guests damsel :

Great. The woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim

of former times ; and these are his four children. The maid

is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath persuaded to

come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their

father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea,

if they do but see any place where the old

pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy

to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same.

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and

Of Christian's an- are these Christian's children? I knew

cestors yOur husband's father, yea, also his father's

father. Many have been good of this stock j their ancestors

268

AT GAIUS'S HOUSE

dwelt first at Antioch. Christian's progenitors (I suppose
you have heard your husband talk of them) were very
worthy men. They have, above any that I know,
showed themselves men of great virtue and courage, for
the Lord of the pilgrims, His -ways, and them that loved
Him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations
that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen,
that was one of the first of the family from whence your
husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones.
James, another of this generation, was slain with the
edge of the sword. To say nothing of Paul and Peter,
men anciently of the family from whence your husband
came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions;
Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ;
and Polycarp, that played the man in the fire. There
was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for
the wasps to eat; and he whom they put into a sack,
and cast him into the sea to be drowned. 'Twould be im-
possible utterly to count up all of that family that have
suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life.
Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left
behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will
bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps,
and come to their father's end.

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads ; they seem to
choose heartily their father's ways.

Gaius. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's
family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the
ground, and yet to be numerous upon the

9 r , J . . r i A«II • • Advice to Christ-

face of the earth ; wherefore let Christiana iana about her

look out some damsels for her sons, to boys
whom they may be betrothed, etc., that the name of their
father, and the house of his progenitors, may never be
forgotten in the world.

Hon. 'Tis pity this family should fall and be extinct.

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may ; but
let Christiana take my advice, and that's the way to up-
hold it. And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad

269

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely
couple. And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer
relation to thee : if she will, let her be given to Matthew
thy eldest son. 'Tis the way to preserve a posterity in
Mercy and && earth. So this match was concluded,

Matthew marry and jn process of time they were married :
but more of that hereafter.

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on
the behalf of women, to take away their reproach. For
as death and the curse came into the world by a woman,
Gen. iii., so also did life and health : God sent forth His
Son, made of a woman. Yea, to show how much those
, that came after did abhor the act of their

Why women of . . . . ~ , . _,

old so much de- mother, this sex m the Old Testament
coveted children, if happily this or that
woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the world.
I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women
rejoiced in Him, before either man or angel. I read not
that ever any man did give unto Christ so much as one
groat ; but the women followed Him, and ministered to
Him of their substance. 'Twas a woman that washed
His feet with tears, and a woman that anointed His
body to the burial. They were women that wept when
He was going to the cross, and women that followed
Him from the cross, and that sat by His sepulchre,
when He was buried. They were women that were
first with Him at His resurrection-morn, and women that
brought tidings first to His disciples that He was risen
from the dead. Women therefore are highly favoured,
and show by these things, that they are sharers with us in
the grace of life.

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was
almost ready, and sent one to lay the
cloth, the trenchers, and to set the salt
and bread in order.

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of
this forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater
appetite to my food than I had before.

270

THE SUPPER

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in
this life beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper
of the Great King in His kingdom ; for all preaching,
books, and ordinances here, are but as the Whattobe
laying of the trenchers, and as setting of gathered from
salt upon the board, when compared with wfth fh°e doth0*'
the feast that our Lord will make for us and trenchers
when we come to His house.

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a
wave-breast were set on the table before them ; to show
that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to
God. The heave-shoulder David lifted his heart up to
God with ; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay,
with that he used to lean upon his harp when he played.
These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all
ate heartily well thereof.

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red
as blood. So Gaius said to them, Drink freely ; this is the
juice of the true vine, that makes glad the heart of God
and man. So they drank and were merry.

The next was a dish of milk well crumbled j but Gaius
said, Let the boys have that, that they

, , J J A dish of milk

may grow thereby.

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and
honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of of honey and
this, for this is good to cheer up and b«tter
strengthen your judgments and understandings. This
was our Lord's dish when He was a child ; Butter and
honey shall He eat, that He may know to refuse the evil,
and choose the good.

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they
were very good-tasted fruit. Then said
Matthew, May we eat apples, since they dl!
were such by and with which the serpent beguiled our
first mother ?

Then said Gaius :

Apples were they with which we were beguiled;
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled:
271

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Apples forbid, if ate corrupt the blood ;
To eat such, when commanded does us good :
Drink of His flagons then, thou Church, His dove,
And eat His apples, who art sick of love.

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a
while since was sick with eating of fruit.

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick ; but not
what our Lord has tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented with
..... another dish, and 'twas a dish of nuts.

A also or nuts •-,-,. . , , , ,

Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil
tender teeth, especially the teeth of the children : which
when Gaius heard, he said :

Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters),
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters;
Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat;
They here are brought for you to crack and eat.

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long
time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman,
My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if
you please, do you open this riddle :

A riddle put forth A man there was, though some did count him mad
by old Honest The more he cast away, the more he had.

Then all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius
would say ; so he sat still a while, and then thus replied :

Gaius opens it Se .??* bestows hLis goods uP°n the poor,

Shall have as much again, and ten times more.

Joseph wonders Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did

not think you could a round it out.
Oh ! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a
great while : nothing teaches like experience. I have
learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by ex-
perience that I have gained thereby. There is that
scattereth, yet increaseth ; and there is that with-
holdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.
There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing :
there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great
riches.

272

GREAT-HEART AND MR. HONEST AT GAIUS'S HOUSE

'Hal said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one; hard to expound,
and harder to practise/

[see p. 273.

MR GREAT-HEART'S RIDDLE

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and
*aid, Mother, this is a very good man's house ; let us stay
here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married
here to Mercy, before we go any further. The which
Gaius, the host, overhearing, said, With a very good will,
my child. So they stayed there more than a month, and
Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. Matthew and Mercy
While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom are married
was, would be makingcoats andgarments togive to the poor,
by which she brought up a very good report upon pilgrims.

But to return again to our story. After supper, the lads
desired a bed, for that they were weary The boys ?0 to bed,
with travelling. Then Gaius called to the rest sit up
show them their chamber ; but said Mercy, I will have them
to bed. So she had them to bed, and they slept well : but
the rest sat up all night ; for Gaius and they were such
suitable company, that they could not tell how to part.
Then after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their
journey, old Mr Honest, he that put forth
the riddle, began to nod. Then said
Great-heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy ; come,
rub up, now here's a riddle for you. Then said Mr Honest,
Let's hear it. Then said Mr Great-heart :

He that will kill, must first be overcome: A .

Who live abroad would, first must die at home. A"ddle

Ha ! said Mr Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to expound,
and harder to practise. But, come, landlord, said he, I
will, if you please, leave my part to you ; do you expound
it, and I will hear what you say.

No, said Gaius, 'twas put to you, and 'tis expected that
you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman :

He first by grace must conquered be,

That sin would mortify: The riddle

And who that lives would convince me, opened
Unto himself must die.

It is right, said Gaius ; good doctrine and experience teach
this. For first, until grace displays itself, and overcomes
the soul with its glory, it is altogether without heart to

273 8

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cords, by which the
soul lies bound, how should it make resistance before it is
loosed from that infirmity ? Secondly, Nor will any that
knows either reason or grace, believe that such a man can
be a living monument of grace, that is a slave to his own
corruption. And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you
A question worth a story worth the hearing. There were
the minding two men fan went on pilgrimage ; the

one began when he was young, the other when he was old.
The young man had strong corruptions to grapple with ;
the old man's were decayed with the decays of nature.
The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one,
and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of
them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed
to be alike ?

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which
heads it against the greatest opposi-

A comparison . . t . , r .

tion, gives best demonstration that it is
strongest ; especially when it also holdeth pace with that
that meets not with half so much, as to be sure old age
does not. Besides, I have observed that old men have

blessed themselves with this mistake ;

namely, taking the decays of nature for
a gracious conquest over corruption, and so have been apt
to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men that are gracious
are best able to give advice to them that are young,
because they have seen most of the emptiness of things :
but yet, for an old and a young man to set out both
together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest
discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old
man's corruptions are naturally the weakest. Thus they
sat talking till break of day.

Now when the family were up, Christiana bid her son

Tames that he should read a chapter : so

he read the 53rd of Isaiah. When he
had done, Mr Honest asked why it was said that the
Saviour is said to come out of a dry ground ; and also that
He had no form nor comeliness in Him.

274

GIANT SLAY-GOOD

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, To the first I
answer, Because the church of the Jews, of which Christ
came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion.
To the second I say, The words are spoken in the person
of the unbelievers, who, because they want that eye that
can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of
Him by the meanness of His outside, just like those that
know not that precious stones are covered over with a
homely crust, who, when they have found one, because they
know not what they have found, cast it away again, as men
do a common stone.

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I
know, Mr Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you
please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk
into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a
mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, that doth
much annoy the King's highway in these Giant Slay.good
parts ; and I know whereabout his haunt assaulted and
is. He is master of a number of thieves :
'twould be well if we could clear these parts of him. So
they consented and went ; Mr Great-heart with his sword,
helmet, and shield ; and the rest with spears and staves.

When they came to the place where he was, they
found him with one Feeble-mind in his
hands, whom his servants had brought unto
him, having taken him in the way. Now
the giant was rifling of him, with a purpose
after that to pick his bones ; for he was of the nature of
flesh-eaters.

Well, so soon as he saw Mr Great-heart and his friends
at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded
what they wanted.

Great. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge
the quarrel of the many that thou hast slain of the pilgrims,
when thou hast dragged them out of the King's highway :
wherefore come out of thy cave. So he armed himself and
came out, and to a battle they went, and fought for above
an hour, and then stood still to take wind.

275

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Slay. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my
ground ?

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I also told

thee before. So they went to it again, and the giant made

Mr Great-heart give back : but he came up again, and in

the greatness of his mind he let fly with

Feeble-tnma ° , . • f ,

rescued from the such stoutness at the giant s head and sides,
that he made him let his weapon fall out of
his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his
head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble-
mind the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings.
When they were come home, they showed his head to the
family, and set it up as they had done others before, for a
terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter.

Then they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell into his
hands.

Feeble. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man,
as you see : and because death did usually once a day

How Feeble-mind knOCk Et mV d°°r> l thought I should never

came to be a be well at home ; so I betook myself to a

pllffnn pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither

from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were
born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet
of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl,
spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the
gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place
did entertain me freely ; neither objected He against my
weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind ; but gave me
such things that were necessary for my journey, and bid
me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the
Interpreter, I received much kindness there : and because
the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was
carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have
found much relief from pilgrims, though none were
willing to go so softly as I am forced to do : yet still
as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and
said, that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should
be given to the feeble-minded, and so went on their own

276

MR FEEBLE-MIND

pace. When I was come up to Assault Lane, then this giant
met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter. But,
alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial ;
so he came up and took me. I conceited he should not
kill me. Also when he had got me into his den, since I
went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out
alive again ; for I have heard, that not any
pilgrim that is taken captive by violent
hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by
the laws of providence to die by the hand of the enemy.
Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am ; but
I am, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I
thank my King as author, and you as the means. Other
brunts I also look for ; but this I have resolved on,
to wit, to run when I can, to go when I
cannot run, and to creep when I cannot
go. As to the main, I thank Him that loyes me, I am
fixed ; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river
that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a
feeble mind.

Hon. Then said old Mr Honest, Have not you some
time ago been acquainted with one Mr Fearing, a pilgrim ?

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes, he came from
the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees north-
ward of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where
I was born : yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he
was mine uncle, my father's brother. He
and 1 have been much of a temper : he FeebSmSS's r
was a little shorter than I, but yet we uncle
were much of a complexion.

Hon. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to believe
also that you were related one to another ; _. . . ...

r i t • t . i t i i.. Feeble-mind has

for you have his whitely look, a cast like some of Mr Fear-
his with your eye, and your speech is m*sfeatur
much alike.

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both :
and besides, what I have read in him I have for the most
part found in myself.

277

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Gaius. Come, sir, said Gaius, be of good cheer ; you
Gaius comforts are welcome to me and to my house. And
Wm what thou hast a mind to, call for freely ;

and what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, they
will do it with a ready-mind.

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, This is unexpected
favour, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud.
Notice to be taken Did Giant Slay-good intend me this favour
of Providence when he stopped me, and resolved to let

me go no further ? Did he intend, that after he had rifled
my pockets, I should go to Gaius mine host ? Yet so it is.

Now just as Mr Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in

talk, there comes one running, and called at

Not-%hht0wa°sne the door, and told, That about a mile and

bolt andathunder~ a half off there was one Mr Not-right, a
Mr Feeble-mind's pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where

comment upon it f • i t i i

he was, with a thunderbolt.

Feeble. Alas ! said Mr Feeble-mind, is he slain ? He
overtook me some days before I came so far as hither, and
would be my company-keeper. He also was with me
when Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of
his heels, and escaped : but it seems he escaped to die, and
I was took to live.

What one would think doth seek to slay outright,

Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight.

That very Providence whose face is death,

Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath.

I taken was, he did escape and flee ;

Hands crossed give death to him and life to me.

Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were married ;
also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's
brother, to wife ; after which time, they yet stayed above
ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time and the
seasons like as pilgrims use to do.

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast,
and they did eat and drink, and were

The pilgrims y, T . . ,

prepare to go merry. Now the hour was come that they

forward must be gone ; wherefore Mr Great-heart

called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him, that at his

278

LEAVING GAIUS'S HOUSE

house it was not the custom of pilgrims to pay for their
entertainment. He boarded them by the year, but looked
for his pay from the Good Samaritan, who had promised
him, at His return, whatsoever charge he was at with them,
faithfully to repay him. Then said Mr Great-heart to
him:

Great. Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou
dost to the brethren, and to strangers, HOW they greet
which have borne witness of thy charity one another at
before the church : whom if thou bring
forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt
do well. Then Gaius took his leave of Gaius.s last kind.
them all, and of his children, and particu- ness to Feebie-
larly of Mr Feeble-mind. He also gave
him something to drink by the way

Now Mr Feeble-mind, when they were going out of
the door, made as if he intended to linger. The which
when Mr Great-heart espied, he said, Come, Mr Feeble-
mind, pray do you go along with us ; I will be your
conductor, and you shall fare as the rest.

Feeble. A las ! I want a suitable companion. You
are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak ; I
choose therefore rather to come behind, Feeble-mind for
lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I going behind
should be both a burden to myself and to you. I aim, as I
said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall be
offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I
shall like no laughing ; I shall like no gay

T i 11 IM c LI His excuse for it

attire ; I shall like no unprofitable ques-
tions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that
which others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the
truth : I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I
hear any rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, because I cannot
do so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the
strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or as a
lamp despised ; He that is ready to slip with his feet is as
a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease ; so
that I know not what to do.

279

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Great. But, brother, said Mr Great-heart, I have it

Great-heart's com- *n commission to comfort the feeble-
mission

minded, and to support the weak. You
must needs go along with us ; we will wait for you ; we
will lend you our help ; we will deny our-

A Christian spirit CJ • • J t_ i • • J •

selves of some things, both opmionative
and practical, for your sake ; we will not enter into doubt-
ful disputations before you ; we will be made all things to
you, rather than you shall be left behind.

Now all this while they were at Gaius's door; and

behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse,

Mr Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in his

hand, and he also was going on pil-

Promises

gnmage.

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind to him, Man, how

earnest thou hither ? I was but just now complaining that

I had not a suitable companion, but thou

Feeble -mind glad ,. \ , %fTT ,

to see Ready-to- art according to my wish. Welcome,
welcome, good Mr Ready-to-halt, I hope
thee and I may be some help.

Ready. I shall be glad of thy company, said the
other ; and, good Mr Feeble-mind, rather than we will
part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one
of my crutches.

Feeble. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy good
will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit,
I think, when occasion is, it may help me against a dog.

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a
pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr Feeble-mind.

Thus therefore they went on. Mr Great-heart and
Mr Honest went before, Christiana and her children went
next, and Mr Feeble-mind and Mr Ready-to-halt came
behind, with his crutches. Then said Mr Honest,

Hon. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us
some profitable things of some that have

New talk . < • • r

gone on pilgrimage before us.

Great. With a good will. I suppose you have heard
how Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in the Valley

280

TALK OF THE PILGRIMS

of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I
think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to
it with Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one
Discontent, and Shame ; four as deceitful villains as a man
can meet with upon the road.

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but indeed good
Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame ; he was an
unwearied one.

Great. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all
men had the wrong name.

Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and
Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also a notable
one.

Great. He was a confident fool; yet many follow his ways.

Hon. He had like to a beguiled Faithful.

Great. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly
to find him out.

Thus they went on till they came at the place where
Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied
to them of what should befall them at Vanity Fair.

Great. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian
and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them
of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair.

Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter
that then he read unto them.

Great. 'Twas so, but he gave them encouragement
withal. But what do we talk of them ? They were a couple
of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like flints. Don't
you remember how undaunted they were when they stood
before the judge ?

Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered.

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't ; for
Hopeful, and some others, as the story relates it, were
converted by his death.

Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well ac-
quainted with things.

Great. Above all that Christian met with after he had
281

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch
one.

Hon. By-ends ! what was he ?

Great. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite ;
one that would be religious, which way ever the world
went ; but so cunning, that he would be sure neither to lose
nor suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every
fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as he. He
would turn and change from opinion to opinion ; yea, and
plead for so doing too. But so far as I could learn, he
came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did I ever hear
that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any
that truly feared God.

Now by this time they were come within sight of the
town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept.

They are come ^ . i i «

within sight of bo when they saw that they were so near
the town, they consulted with one another
how they should pass through the town ; and some said
one thing, and some another. At last Mr Great-heart said,
I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of
pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with
one Mr Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple,
at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, said
he, we will turn in there.

Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ;
Content, said Mr Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. Now
you must think it was even-tide by that they got to the
outside of the town ; but Mr Great-heart knew the way
to the old man's house. So thither they came ; and he
called at the door, and the old man within knew his
tongue so soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened,
and they all came in. Then said Mnason

They enter into one . . . J ,T r . . ,

Mr Mnason's to their host, How far have ye come to-day r
So they said, From the house of Gaius our
friend. I promise you, said he, you have gone a good stitch.
You may well be aweary ; sit down. So they sat down.

Great. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, sirs ?
I dare say you are welcome to my friend.

282

MNASON'S FRIENDS

Mnas. I also, said Mr Mnason, do bid you welcome ;
and whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what
we can to get it for you.

Hon. Our great want a while since was harbour and
good company, and now I hope we have They ^ glad of

both. entertainment

Mnas. For harbour, you see what it is ; but for good
company, that will appear in the trial.

Great. Well, said Mr Great-heart, will you have the
pilgrims up into their lodging ?

Mnas. I will, said Mr Mnason. So he had them to
their respective places ; and also showed them a very fair
dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, until
time was come to go to rest.

Now when they were set in their places, and were a little
cheery after their journey, Mr Honest asked his landlord if
there were any store of good people in the town.

Mnas. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a few,
when compared with them on the other side.

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for
the sight of good men to them that are They desire to see
going on pilgrimage, is like to the appearing some of the good
of the moon and the stars to them that are people
sailing upon the seas.

Mnas. Then Mr Mnason stamped with his foot, and
his daughter Grace came up. So he said unto her, Grace,
go you, tell my friends, Mr Contrite, Mr
Holy-man, Mr Love-saint, Mr Dare-not-lie,
and Mr Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house
that have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace
went to call them, and they came ; and after salutation
made, they sat down together at the table.

Then said Mr Mnason their landlord, My neighbours, I
have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my
house ; they are pilgrims : they come from afar, and are
going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think
this is ? pointing with his finger to Christiana. It is Chris-
tiana the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who with

283

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Faithful his brother were so shamefully handled in our town.
At that they stood amazed, saying, We little thought to see
Christiana when Grace came to call us ; wherefore this is
a very comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her
welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons.
And when she had told them they were, they said, The
King whom you love and serve make you as your father,
and bring you where he is in peace.

Some talk betw«t Hon- Then Mr Honest (when they were
Mr Honest and all sat down) asked Mr Contrite and the

Mr Contrite i ' i .

rest, in what posture their town was at
present.

Contr. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair
time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in any good
The fruit of watch- order when we are in a cumbered condition.
fulness He that lives in such a place as this is, and

that has to do with such as we have, has need of an item
to caution him to take heed every moment of the day.

Hon. But how are your neighbours for quietness ?

Contr. They are much more moderate now than
„ formerly. You know how Christian and

Persecution not so _ r • iri

hot at Vanity Faithful were used at our town ; but of late,

I say, they have been far more moderate. I
think the blood of Faithful lieth with load upon them till
now ; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed to
burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the
streets, but now we can show our heads. Then the name
of a professor was odious ; now, specially in some parts
of our town (for you know our town is large), religion is
counted honourable. Then said Mr Contrite to them,
Pray how fareth it with you in your pilgrimage ? how
stands the country affected towards you ?

Hon. It happens to us, as it happeneth to wayfaring
men •, — sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul ; some-
times up hill ; sometimes down hill ; we are seldom at a
certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is
every one a friend that we meet with in the way. We
have met with some notable rubs already, and what are

284

RUBS OF THE PILGRIMS

yet behind we know not ; but for the most part we find it
true that has been talked of of old, A good man must
suffer trouble.

Contr. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met
withal ?

Hon. Nay, ask Mr Great-heart our guide ; for he can
give the best account of that.

Great. We have been beset three or four times
already. First, Christiana and her children were beset with
two ruffians, that they feared would a took away their lives.
We were beset with Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and
Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we did rather beset the last than
were beset of him. And thus it was : after we had been
some time at the house of Gaius mine host, and of the
whole church, we were minded upon a time to take our
weapons with us, and go see if we could light upon any
of those that were enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that
there was a notable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew
his haunt better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So
we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth
of his cave : then we were glad, and plucked up our
spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and lo, when
we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his
net, this poor man, Mr Feeble-mind, and was about to
bring him to his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as
we thought, he had had another prey, he left the poor
man in his hole, and came out. So we fell to it full sore,
and he lustily laid about him ; but, in conclusion, he was
brought down to the ground, and his head cut off,
and set up by the way-side, for a terror to such as should
after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you the
truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a
lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion.

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, I found this
true, to my cost and comfort : to my cost, when he
threatened to pick my bones every moment ; and to my
comfort, when I saw Mr Great-heart and his friends,
with their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance.

285

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Holy. Then said Mr Holy-man, There are two things
Mr Holy-man1! tnat they have need to be possessed with
sPeech that go on pilgrimage ; courage, and an

unspotted life. If they have not courage, they can never
hold on their way ; and if their lives be loose, they will
make the very name of a pilgrim stink.

Love. Then said Mr Love-saint, I hope this caution
Mr Love-saint's is not needful amongst you. But truly
*Peech there are many that go upon the road,

that rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage,
than strangers and pilgrims in the earth.

Dare. Then said Mr Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true. They
Mr Dare-not-iie, neither have the pilgrim's weed, nor the
his speech pilgrim's courage ; they go not uprightly,

but all awry with their feet; one shoe goes inward,
another outward ; and their hosen out behind ; there a
rag, and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord.

Pen. These things, said Mr Penitent, they ought to be
Mr Penitent, his troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims like to
sPeech have that grace put upon them and their

Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is cleared
of such spots and blemishes. Thus they sat talking and
spending the time until supper was set upon the table,
unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies,
so they went to rest.

Now they staid in this fair a great while at the house of
this Mr Mnason, who in process of time gave his daughter
Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his
daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time, as I said, that they lay here, was long,
for it was not now as in former times. Wherefore the
pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people
of the town, and did them what service they could.
Mercy, as she was wont, laboured much for the poor :
wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was
there an ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth,
for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good
nature, and did much good in their place. They were also

286

A MONSTER

all of them very fruitful ; so that Christian's name, as was
said before, was like to live in the world.

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the
woods, and slew many of the people of

. T i j 1 L • A monster

the town. It would also carry away their
children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now no man
in the town durst so much as face this monster, but all men
fled when they heard of the noise of his coming.

The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth.
Its body was like a dragon, and it had

fit T i His shape

seven heads and ten horns. It made

great havoc of children, and yet it was governed by a

woman. This monster propounded con-

... . , , , His nature

ditions to men ; and such men as loved

their lives more than their souls accepted those conditions.

So they came under.

Now this Mr Great-heart, together with these that came
to visit the pilgrims at Mr Mnason's house, entered into a
covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they
might deliver the people of this town from the paws and
mouth of this so devouring a serpent.

Then did Mr Great-heart, Mr Contrite, Mr Holy-man,
Mr Dare-not-lie, and Mr Penitent, with their weapons, go
forth to meet him. Now the monster at

~ , , How engaged

first was very rampant, and looked upon
these enemies with great disdain ; but they so belaboured
him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him make
a retreat ; so they came home to Mr Mnason's house again.

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons
to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children
of the people of the town. Also these seasons did these
valiant worthies watch him in, and did still continually
assault him ; insomuch that in process of time he became not
only wounded, but lame. Also he has not made that havoc
of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done j and
it is verily believed by some that this beast will die of his
wounds.

This therefore made Mr Great-heart and his fellows of

287

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

great fame in this town ; so that many of the people that
wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and
respect for them. Upon this account therefore it was that
these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, there were
some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole,
nor understand more than a beast ; these had no reverence
for these men, nor took they notice of their valour or
adventures.

Well, the time drew on that the pilgrims must go on
their way; wherefore they prepared for their journey.
They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ;
they had some time set apart therein to commit each other
to the protection of their Prince. There were again that
brought them of such things as they had, that were fit for
the weak and the strong, for the women and the men,
and so laded them with such things as were necessary.
Then they set forwards on their way ; and their friends
accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again
committed each other to the protection of their King, and
parted.

They therefore that were of the pilgrims* company
went on, and Mr Great-heart went before them. Now
the women and children being weakly, they were forced
to go as they could bear ; by this means Mr Ready-to-
halt and Mr Feeble-mind had more to sympathize with
their condition.

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when
their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to
the place where Faithful was put to death. There there-
fore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled
him to bear his cross so well ; and the rather, because
they now found that they had a benefit by such a manly
suffering as his was.

They went on therefore after this a good way further,
talking of Christian and Fathful, and how Hopeful joined
himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead.

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the
silver mine was which took Demas off from his pilgrimage,

288

BY-PATH MEADOW

and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished ;
wherefore they considered that. But when they were
come to the old monument that stood over against the
Hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt, that stood also
within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled,
as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and
ripeness of wit as they were should be so blinded as to turn
aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is
not affected with the harms that others have met with,
specially if that thing upon which they look has an
attracting virtue upon the foolish eye.

I saw now that they went on till they came at the
river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains ;
— to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides,
and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against
surfeits ; where the meadows are green all the year long ;
and where they might lie down safely.

By this river side, in the meadow, there were cotes
and folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing
and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those
women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here
one that was intrusted with them, who could have com-
passion; and that could gather these lambs with his
arm, and carry them in his bosom, and that could gently
lead those that were with young. Now to the care
of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters
to commit their little ones, that by these waters they
might be housed, harboured, succoured, and nourished,
and that none of them might be lacking in time to come.
This man, if any of them go astray, or be lost, he will
bring them again ; he will also bind up that which
was broken, and will strengthen them that are sick.
Here they will never want meat, and drink, and clothing ;
here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ;
for this man will die before one of those committed
to his trust shall be lost. Besides, here they shall be
sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall
be taught to walk in right paths, and that you

289 T

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

know is a favour of no small account. Also here, as you
see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers,
variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit ; — fruit,
not like that that Matthew ate of, that fell over the
wall out of Beelzebub's garden j but fruit that procureth
health where there is none, and that continueth and
increaseth it where it is. So they were content to commit
their little ones to him ; and that which was also an en-
couragement to them so to do, was, for that all this was
to be at the charge of the King, and so was an hospital to
young children and orphans.

Now they went on. And when they were come to
They being come By-path Meadow, to the stile over which
to By-path stile, Christian went with his fellow Hopeful,
haJe a "Sick with when they were taken by Giant Despair,
Giant Despair an(j put into Doubting Castle, they sat
down, and consulted what was best to be done : to wit,
now they were so strong, and had got such a man as
Mr Great-heart for their conductor, whether they had
not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his
castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at
liberty, before they went any further. So one said one
thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if
it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another
said they might, provided their end was good ; but Mr
Great-heart said, Though that assertion offered last
cannot be universally true, yet I have a commandment to
resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of
faith: and I pray, with whom should I fight this good
fight, if not with Giant Despair ? I will therefore
attempt the taking away of his life and the demolishing of
Doubting Castle. Then said he, Who will go with
me ? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will
we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel,
James, and Joseph ; for they were young men and
strong. So they left the women in the road, and with
them Mr Feeble-mind, and Mr Ready-to-halt with his
crutches, to be their guard, until they came back ; for in

290

MR. DESPONDENCY AND HIS DAUGHTER

MUCH-AFRAID

4 They found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death,
and one Much-Afraid, his daughter/ •

GIANT DESPAIR KILLED

that place though Giant Despair dwelt so near, they,
keeping in the road, a little child might lead them.

So Mr Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young
men, went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant
Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they
knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the
old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife
follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so
hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair ?
Mr Great-heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the
King of the celestial country's conductors of pilgrims
to their place; and I demand of thee that thou open
thy gates for my entrance : prepare thyself also to fight,
for I am come to take away thy head, and to demolish
Doubting Castle.

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no
man could overcome him: and again Despair has over-
thought he, Since heretofore I have made come angels
a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid ?
So he harnessed himself, and went out. He had a cap of
steel upon his head, a breastplate of fire girded to him, and
he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand.
Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind
and before : also when Diffidence the giantess came up to
help him, old Mr Honest cut her down at one blow. Then
they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was
brought down to the ground, but was very Despair is loth to
loth to die. He struggled hard, and had, die
as they say, as many lives as a cat ; but Great-heart was
his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head
from his shoulders.

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that
you know might with ease be done, since Doubting Castle
Giant Despair was dead. They were seven demolished
days in destroying of that ; and in it of pilgrims they found
one Mr Despondency, almost starved to death, and one
Much-afraid, his daughter : these two they saved alive.
But it would a made you a wondered to have seen the dead

291

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

bodies that lay here and there in the castle yard, and how
full of dead men's bones the dungeon was.

When Mr Great-heart and his companions had per-
formed this exploit, they took Mr Despondency, and his
daughter Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they were
honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting
Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, therefore, I say,
took with them the head of the giant (for his body they
had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road
and to their companions they came, and showed them what
they had done. Now when Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt
saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they
Th.yhaT.mudc were very jocund aod merry. NowChristi-
and dancing for ana, if need was, could play upon the viol,
J0y and her daughter Mercy upon the lute : so

since they were so merry disposed, she played them a
lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he tookDespond-
ency's daughter, Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing
they went in the road. True, he could not dance without
one crutch in his hand, but I promise you, he footed it well :
also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the
music handsomely.

As for Mr Despondency, the music was not much to
him ; he was for feeding, rather than dancing, for that he
was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of her
bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him
something to eat; and in little time the old gentleman
came to himself, and began to be finely revived.

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were
finished, Mr Great-heart took the head of Giant Despair,
and set it upon a pole by the highway side, right over
against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to
pilgrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his
grounds.

Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these verses
following : —

This is the head of him, whose name only
In former times did pilgrims terrify.
292

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS

His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife

Brave Mr Great-heart has bereft of life. A monument of

Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, deliverance

Great-heart for them also the man has played.

Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye

Up hither, may his scruples satisfy.

This head also when doubting cripples dance,

Doth show from fears they have deliverance.

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves
against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they
went forward, and went on till they came to the Delect-
able Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed
themselves with the varieties of the place. They also
acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who
welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto
the Delectable Mountains.

Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr
Great-heart (for with him they were well acquainted),
they said unto him, Good sir, you have got a goodly
company here ; pray where did you find all these ?

Then Mr Great-heart replied : —

First, here's Christiana and her train,

Her sons, and her sons' wives, who like the wain,

Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer

From sin to grace, else they had not been here.

Next here's old Honest come on pilgrimage,

Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage The guide's speech

True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, to the Shepherds

Who willing was not to be left behind.

Despondency, good man, is coming after,

And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter.

May we have entertainment here, or must

We further go? Let's know whereon to trust.

Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable com-
pany. Your are welcome to us ; for we have for the
feeble, as for the strong. Our Prince Their entertain-
has an eye to what is done to the least ment
of these ; therefore infirmity must not be a block to our
entertainment. So they had them to the palace door,
and then said unto them, Come in, Mr Feeble-mind,
come in, Mr Ready-to-halt, come in, Mr Despondency.

293

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and Mrs Much-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr Great-
heart, said the Shepherds to the guide, we call in by
name, for that they are most subject to draw back ; but
as for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you
to your wonted liberty. Then said Mr Great-heart, This
day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and that you
A description of are m7 Lord's shepherds indeed ; for that
false shepherd yOU have not pushed these diseased neither

with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way
into the palace with flowers, as you should.

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr Great-heart
and the rest did follow. When they were also set down
the Shepherds said to those of the weaker sort, What is
it that you would have? for, said they, all things must be
managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well as
to the warning of the unruly. So they made them a feast
of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the
palate, and nourishing ; the which when they had received,
they went to their rest, each one respectively unto his
proper place.

When morning was come, because the mountains were
high and the day clear, and because it was the custom of
the Shepherds to show to the pilgrims before their departure
some rarities, therefore after they were ready, and had
refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into
the fields, and showed them first what they had showed to
Christian before.

Then they had them to some new places. The first was
to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and
behold a man at a distance, that tumbled
the hills about with words. Then they asked the Shep-
herds what that should mean. So they told them, that
that man was the son of one Great-grace, of whom you
read in the first part of the records of the Pilgrints
Progress; and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to
believe down, or to tumble out of their ways, what
difficulties they shall meet with, by faith. Then said
Mr Great-heart, I know him, he is a man above many.

294

MOUNT CHARITY

Then they had them to another place, called Mount
Innocent. And there they saw a man

... . . . J _ Mount Innocent

clothed all m white ; and two men, rre-
judice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him.
Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him,
would in little time fall off again, and his garment would
look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat. Then
said the pilgrims, What means this? The Shepherds
answered, This man is named Godly-man, and this garment
is to show the innocency of his life. Now those that
throw dirt at him, are such as hate his well-doing ; but,
as you see the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it
shall be with him that liveth truly innocently in the world.
Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they
labour all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent,
will cause that their innocence shall break forth as the
light, and their righteousness as the noonday.

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity,
where they showed them a man that had a Mount Chari
bundle of cloth lying before him, out of
which he cut coats and garments for the poor that stood
about him ; yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never the
less. Then said they. What should this be ? This is,
said the Shepherds, to show you, that he that has a heart
to give of his labour to the poor, shall never want where-
withal. He that watereth, shall be watered himself. And
the cake that the widow gave to the prophet, did not cause
that she had ever the less in her barrel.

They had them also to a place where they saw one
Fool, and one Want-wit, washing of an

_.... .1- • ii« The work of one

Ethiopian, with intention to make him Fooiandone
white; but the more they washed him Want'wlt
the blacker he was. They then asked the Shepherds what
that should mean. So they told them, saying, Thus shall
it be with the vile person ; all means used to get such a
one a good name, shall in conclusion tend but to make
him more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees ;
and so shall it be with all hypocrites.

295

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana,
her mother, Mother, I would, if it might

Mercy has a mind . » i ., i &

to see the hole in be, see the hole in the hill, or that com-
monly called the by-way to hell. So her
mother brake her mind to the Shepherds. Then they
went to the door ; it was in the side of an hill ; and they
opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a while. So she
hearkened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father
for holding of my feet back from the way of peace and
life. And another said, Oh that I had been torn in pieces
before I had, to save my life, lost my soul ! And another
said, If I were to live again, how would I deny myself
rather than come to this place ! Then there was as if the
very earth had groaned and quaked under the feet of this
young woman for fear; so she looked white, and came
trembling away, saying, Blessed be he and she that are
delivered from this place !

Now when the Shepherds had showed them all these
things, then they had them back to the palace, and enter-
tained them with what the house would afford. But
Mercy longeth, Mercy, being a young and breeding woman,
and for what longed for something which she saw there,

but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked
her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. Then
said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-
room, off of which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I
have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother,
I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will
not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these
men should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said
she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing
as that So Mercy said, Then, mother, if you please, ask
the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it.

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present

it was the Word of a man> one wa7> with his own feature
God exactly •, and turn it but another way, and

it would show one the very face and similitude of the
Prince of pilgrims himself. Yea, I have talked with them

296

GIFTS OF THE SHEPHERDS

that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the
very crown of thorns upon His head by looking in that
glass ; they have therein also seen the holes in His hands,
in His feet, and His side. Yea, such an excellency is there
in that glass, that it will show Him to one where they have
a mind to see Him; whether living or dead; whether in
earth or heaven ; whether in a state of humiliation or in
His exaltation ; whether coming to suffer or coming to
reign.

Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart, now
the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, Experience,
Watchful, and Sincere, and said unto them, There is one
of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long
for something that she hath seen in this house ; and she
thinks she shall miscarry if she should by you be denied.

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly
have what we can help her to. So they called her, and
said to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldest have ?
Then she blushed, and said, The great glass that hangs up
in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and She doth not |OSe
fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was her lonstag
given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks,
and said, By this I know that I have obtained favour in
your eyes.

They also gave to the other young women such things
as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations,
for that they joined with Mr Great-heart to the slaying of
Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle.

About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet,
and so they did about the necks of her

r i i 11 •• How the

four daughters ; also they put ear-rings m shepherds adorn
their ears, and jewels on their foreheads. the pilgrims

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go
in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions which
before were given to Christian and his companion. The
reasoj was, for that these had Great-heart to be their
guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things,
and so could give them their cautions more seasonably, to

297

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

wit, even then when the danger was nigh the approaching.
What cautions Christian and his companions had received
of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that the time
was come that they had need to put them in practice.
Wherefore, here was the advantage that this company
had over the other.

From hence they went on singing ; and they said : —

Behold how fitly are the stages set

For their relief that pilgrim* are become,

And how they us receive without one let,

That make the other life our mark and home 1

What novelties they have to us they give,

That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live.

They do upon us, too, such things bestow,
That show we pilgrims are where'er we go.

When they were gone from the Shepherds they quickly
came to the place where Christian met with one Turn-away,
that dwelt in the town of Apostacy. Wherefore of him
Mr Great-heart their guide did now put them in mind,
saying, This is the place where Christian met with one
Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his
rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning
this man ; — he would hearken to no counsel, but once a
falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he came to
_ the place where the cross and the sepulchre

How one Turn- 1, ... ., , ,. i V • i i .

away managed were, he did meet with one that did bid him
look there ; but he gnashed with his teeth,
and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back to his own
town. Before he came to the gate he met with Evangelist,
who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way
again. But this Turn-away resisted him, and having done
much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so
escaped his hand.

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little-
faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his
sword drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr
Great-heart, What art thou ? The man made answer,
saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a

298

VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH

pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I
was in my way, there were three men did

3 / ' . One Valiant-for-

beset me, and propounded unto me these truth beset with
three things : I. Whether I would become thieves
one of them. 2. Or go back from whence I came. 3. Or
die upon the place. To the first I answered, I had
been a true man for a long season, and therefore it
could not be expected that I now should cast in my lot
with thieves. Then they demanded what I would say to
the second. So I told them, that the place from whence I
came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not for-
saken it at all ; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me,
and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way.
Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I told,
them, my life cost more dear far than that I should lightly
give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put
things to my choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if you
meddle. Then these three, to wit, Wild-head, Incon-
siderate, and Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew
upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the
space of above three hours. They have „

, V 3 P , How he beharcd

left upon me, as you see, some of the himself and put
marks of their valour, and have also carried them to fllght
away with them some of mine. They are but just now
gone : I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your
horse dash, and so they betook themselves to flight.

Great-heart. But here was great odds, three against one.

Valiant. 'Tis true ; but little and more ,, . .

i . i.ii i i i . Great-heart

are nothing to him that has the truth on his wonders at his
side : Though an host should encamp against valour
me, said one, my heart shall not fear : though war should rise
against me, in this will I be confident, etc. Besides, said he,
Ihave read in somerecords that one man has fought an army :
and how many did Samson slay with the jaw-bone of an ass !

Great. Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out,
that some might a come in for your succour ?

Valiant. So I did to my King, who I knew could hear,
and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient for me.

299

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Great. Then said Great-heart to Mr Valiant-for-truth,
Thou hast worthily behaved thyself; let
his sword? and se° me see thy sword. So he showed it him.
When he had taken it in his hand and
looked thereon a while, he said, Ha ! it is
a right Jerusalem blade.

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades,
with a hand to wield it and skill to use it, and he may
venture upon an angel with it He need not fear its hold-
ing, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will never
blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul and spirit and all.

Great But you fought a great while ; I wonder you
was not weary.

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my

The word hand ' anc* w^en they were joined to-

The faith gether as if a sword grew out of my

arm, and when the blood ran through

my fingers, then I fought with most courage.

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted unto
blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come
in and go out with us ; for we are thy companions. Then
they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave him of
what they had, to refresh him : and so they went on together.

Now as they went on, because Mr Great-heart was
delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he found
to be a man of his hands), and because there was with
what countryman his company them that were feeble and
Mr Valiant was weak, therefore he questioned with him
about many things ; as first, what countryman he was.

Valiant I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born,
and there my father and mother are still.

Great. Dark-land, said the guide; doth not that lie
upon the same coast with the City of Destruction ?

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to

HOW Mr valiant come on Primage was this. We had

came to go on one Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and

he told it about what Christian had done,

that went from the City of Destruction ; namely, how he

300

VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART

had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken himself
to a pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported, how
he had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in
his journey ; and how he got through to whither he in-
tended. It was also told what welcome he had at all his
Lord's lodgings, specially when he came to the gates of
the Celestial City ; for there, said the man, he was received
with sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones. He
told it also how all the bells in the city did ring for joy at
his reception, and what golden garments he was clothed
with ; with many other things that now I shall forbear to
relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian
and his travels that my heart fell into a burning haste to
be gone after him ; nor could father or mother stay me.
So I got from them, and am come thus far on my way.

Great. You came in at the gate, did you not ?

Valiant. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us,
that all would be nothing, if we did not

, . , . ° | He begins right

begin to enter this way at the gate.

Great. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the
pilgrimage of your husband, and what Christian's name
he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad famous
far and near.

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ?

Great. Yes, that it is ; and these are also her four sons.

Valiant. What, and going on pilgrimage too ?

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after.

Valiant. It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joy-
ful will he be when he shall see them that

, , . i i . c He is much re-

would not go with him, yet to enter after joiced to see
him in at the gates into the City ! Christian's wife

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ;
for next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy
to meet there his wife and his children.

Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me see
your opinion about it. Some make a question, whether
we shall know one another when we are there.

Great. Do they think they shall know themselves then,
301

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss?
and if they think they shall know and do
these, why not know others, and rejoice

when we come jn their welfare also ? Again, since re-

to heaven , . , SJ . , ,

lations are our second self, though that
state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be
rationally concluded, that we shall be more glad to see
them there, than to see they are wanting ?

Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to
this. Have you any more things to ask me about my
beginning to come on pilgrimage ?

Great. Yes ; were your father and mother willing
that you should become a pilgrim ?

Valiant. Oh, no; they used all means imaginable to
persuade me to stay at home.

Great. Why, what could they say against it ?

Valiant. They said it was an idle life ;
and if 1 mYself were not inclined to sloth

by bis friends were and laziness, I would never countenance a

laid m his way . , ,. .

pilgrim s condition.

Great. And what did they say else ?

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous
way; yea, the most dangerous way in the world, said
they, is that which the pilgrims go.

Great. Did they show wherein this way is so dangerous ?

Valiant. Yes ; and that in many particulars.

Great. Name some of them.

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond,
The first stum- where Christian was well nigh smothered.
biing-biock They told me, that there were archers

standing ready in Beelzebub Castle to shoot them that
should knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told
me also of the wood and dark mountains ; of the Hill
Difficulty ; of the lions ; and also of the three giants,
Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They said, moreover,
that there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humilia-
tion ; and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life.
Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the

302

VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART

Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the
light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits,
traps, and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of
Doubting Castle, and of the ruins that the pilgrims met
with there. Further, they said I must go over the Enchanted
Ground, which was dangerous; and that after all this I
should find a river, over which I should find no bridge ; and
that that river did lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country.

Great. And was this all ?

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full
of deceivers, and of persons that laid await

c , , The second

there to turn good men out of the path.

Great. But how did they make that out ?

Valiant. They told me, that Mr Worldly- wiseman did
there lie in wait to deceive. They also said,
that there were Formality and Hypocrisy
continually on the road. They said also, that By-ends,
Talkative, or Demas, would go near to gather me up ; that
the Flatterer would catch me in his net; or that, with green-
headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate,
from whence he always was sent back to the hole that was
in the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell.

Great. I promise you, this was enough to discourage :
but did they make an end here ?

Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many that
had tried that way of old, and that had

J , . «r i The fourth

gone a great way therein, to see if they
could find something of the glory there that so many had
so much talked of from time to time, and how they came
back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out
of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the country.
And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and
Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old
Atheist, with several more; who, they said, had some
of them gone far to see if they could find, but not
one of them found so much advantage by going as
amounted to the weight of a feather.

Great. Said they any thing more to discourage you ?
303

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fearing,
who was a pilgrim, and how he found his
way so solitary, that he never had com-
fortable hour therein ; also that Mr Despondency had
like to been starved therein ; yea, and also (which I had
almost forgot) that Christian himself, about whom there
has been such a noise, after all his ventures for a celestial
crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and
never went foot further, however it was smothered up.

Great. And did none of these things discourage you ?

Valiant. No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me.

Great. How came that about ?

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr Tell-true
HOW he got over had said; and that carried me beyond

these stumbling- , , ,

blocks them all.

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith.

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came
out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves
against me, and, by believing, am come to this place.

Who would true valour see,

Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,

Come wind, come weather;
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent

To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round

With dismal stories,
Do but themselves confound;

His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He'll with a giant fight,
But he will have a right

To be a pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend

Can daunt his spirit ;
He knows he at the end

shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He'll fear not what men say ;
He'll labour night and day

To be a pilgrim.
304

ENCHANTED GROUND

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground,
where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. And
that place was all grown over with briers and thorns,
excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbour,
upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis
a question, say some, whether ever they shall rise or wake
again in this world. Over this forest therefore they went,
both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went before,
for that he was the guide; and Mr Valiant-for-truth he came
behind, being there a guard, for fear lest peradventure some
fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their
rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man
with his sword drawn in his hand ; for they knew it was
a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as
well as they could. Feeble-mind, Mr Great-heart com-
manded, should come up after him ; and Mr Despondency
was under the eye of Mr Valiant.

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and a
darkness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce,
for a great while, see the one the other. Wherefore
they were forced, for some time, to feel for one another
by words ; for they walked not by sight. But any one
must think, that here was but sorry going for the best
of them all ; but how much worse for the women and
children, who both of feet and heart were but tender !
Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him
that lead in the front, and of him that brought them up
behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along.

The way also was here very wearisome, through dirt and
slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so much as
one inn or victualling-house therein to refresh the feebler
sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and purring, and
sighing, while one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast
in the dirt, and the children, some of them, lost their shoes
in the mire ; — while one cries out, I am down ; and another,
Ho, where are you ? and a third, The bushes have got
such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them.

Then they came at an arbour, warm, and promising
much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely wrought

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

above head, beautified with greens, furnished with beaches
and settles. It also had in it a soft couch,

An arbour on tne . . , , _, .

enchanting whereon the weary might lean. 1 his, you

must think, all things considered, was tempt-
ing; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the bad-
ness of the way : but there was not one of them that made so
much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could per-
ceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice of
their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, and
of the nature of the dangers when they were at them, that
usually when they were nearest to them, they did most pluck
up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny the flesh.
The name of the This arbour was called The Slothful's
arbour Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might be,

some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary.

I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their
The way difficult solitary ground, till they came to a place at
to find which a man is apt to lose his way. Now,

though when it was light their guide could well enough
tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the
The guide has a dark he was put to a stand. But he had
£Si!£toSrayl in his pocket a map of all ways leading to
from the city Or from the Celestial City ; wherefore he

struck a light (for he never goes also without his tinder-
box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him
be careful in that place to turn to the right-hand way. And
had he not here been careful to look in his map, they had all
in probability been smothered in the mud ; for just a little
before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too,
was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud,
there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in.

Then thought I with myself, Who that goeth on pil-
grimage but would have one of these maps

God's book P. *? . , , . 11.

about him, that he may look when he is at
a stand, which is the way he must take ?

They went on then in this Enchanted Ground, till
An arbour and they came to where was another arbour,
two asleep therein anc} jt was built by the highway-side. And
in that arbour there lay two men, whose names were

306

LAST REFUGE OF THE ENEMY

Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on
pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied with their journey,
they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep.
When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook
their heads-, for they knew that the sleepers were in a
pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to
go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them and
try to wake them. So they concluded to go to them and
awake them ; that is, if they could ; but with this caution,
namely, to take heed that themselves did not sit down
nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbour.

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each
by his name, for the guide it seems did The pilgrims try
know them ; but there was no voice nor to wake them
answer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he
could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay
you when I take my money. At which the guide shook
his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my
hand, said the other. At that, one of the children laughed.

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this ? The
guide said, They talk in their sleep. If Their endeavour is
you strike them, beat them, or whatever fruitless
else you do to them, they will answer you after this
fashion ; or as one of them said in old time, when the
waves of the sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one
upon the mast of a ship, When I awake, I will seek it
again. You know when men talk in their sleeps, they
say anything ; but their words are not governed either
by faith or reason. There is an incoherency in their
words now, as there was before betwixt their going on
pilgrimage and sitting down here. This then is the
mischief on't ; — when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis
twenty to one but they are served thus. For this
Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the
enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, placed
almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us
with the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy,
will these fools be so desirous to sit down as when they
are weary ? and when so like to be weary as when almost

307

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

at their journey's end ? Therefore it is, I say, that the
Enchanted Ground is placed so nigh to the land Beulah, and
so near the end of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look
to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these
that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them.

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward ;
only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they
might go the rest of their way by the help of the light of
The light of the a lantern. So he struck a light, and they
Word went by the help of that through the

rest of this way, though the darkness was very great.
But the children began to be sorely weary, and they
The children cry cried out unto Him that loveth pilgrims,
for weariness to make their way more comfortable. So

by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose that
drove away the fog, so the air became more clear. Yet
they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted Ground ;
only now they could see one another better, and the way
wherein they should walk.

Now when they were almost at the end of this ground,

they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise

as of one that was much concerned. So they went on,

and looked before them : and behold they

btandrast upon /

his knees in the saw, as they thought, a man upon his
knees, with hands and eyes lift up, and
speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above.
They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they
went softly till he had done. When he had done he got
up, and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then
Mr Great-heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend ! let
us have your company if you go, as I suppose you do, to
the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up
to him. But so soon as Mr Honest saw him he said,
I know this man. Then said Mr Valiant-for-truth, Prithee,
who is it ? 'Tis one, said he, that comes from whereabouts
The story of * dwelt. His name is Standfast; he is

Standfast certainly a right good pilgrim.

So they came up one to another. And presently Stand-
fast said to old Honest, Ho, father Honest, are you there ?

STANDFAST'S ACCOUNT

Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. Right
glad am I, said Mr Standfast, that I have Taik betwixt him
found you on this road. And as glad am I, and Mr H°n<>st
said the other, that I espied you upon your knees. Then
Mr Standfast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me ?
Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was
glad at the sight. Why, what did you think ? said Stand-
fast. Think ! said old Honest ; what should I think ? I
thought we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore
should have his company by and by. If you thought not
amiss, how happy am I ! But if I be not as I should, I
alone must bear it. That is true, said the other ; but
your fear doth further confirm me that things are right
betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul. For He saith,
Blessed is the man that feareth always.

Valiant. Well but, brother, I pray thee tell us what
was it that was the cause of thy being upon They found him
thy knees even now ; was it for that some at Pray*r
special mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how ?

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted
Ground ; and as I was coming along I was

'. . ^r r i_ j What it was that

musing with myself of what a dangerous fetched him upon
road, the road in this place was, and how hisknees
many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage had here
been stopped and been destroyed. I thought also of the
manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men.
Those that die here, die of no violent distemper ; the death
which such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth
away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire and
pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease.

Hon. Then Mr Honest interrupting of him, said, Did
you see the two men asleep in the arbour ?

Stand. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there;
and for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot.
But let me go on in my tale. As I was thus musing, as
I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who
presented herself unto me, and offered me three things, to
wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now the truth is,
I was both aweary and sleepy : I am also as poor as an owlet,

309

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once
and again, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I
began to be angry •, but she mattered that nothing at all.
Then she made offers again, and said if I would be ruled by
her, she would make me great and happy ; for, said she, I am
the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me.
Madame Bubble, Then I asked her name, and she told me
or this vain world jt was Madame Bubble. This setme further
from her; but she still followed me with enticements.
Then I betook me, as you see, to my knees, and with
hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said He
would help. So just as you came up the gentlewoman
went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for
this my great deliverance ; for I verily believe she intended
no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my
journey.

Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But,
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her,
or have read some story of her.

Stand. Perhaps you have done both.

Hon. Madame Bubble ! Is she not a tall, comely dame,
something of a swarthy complexion ?

Stand. Right, you hit it : she is just such a one.

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give
you a smile at the end of a sentence ?

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are her
very actions.

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side,
and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if
that was her heart's delight ?

Stand. 'Tis just so ; had she stood by all this while
you could not more amply have set her forth before me,
nor have better described her features.

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good
limner, and he that wrote of her said true.

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of

her sorceries that this ground is enchanted.

Whoever doth lay their head down in her

lap had as good lay it down upon that block over which the

310

MADAM BUBBLE

axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their eyes upon her
beauty are counted the enemies of God. This is she
that maintaineth in their splendour all those that are
the enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is she that has
bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is
a great gossiper ; she is always, both she and her
daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or other, now com-
mending, and then preferring the excellences of this life.
She is a bold and impudent slut ; she will talk with any
man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but
highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning to
get money in a place, she will speak well of him from
house to house. She loveth banqueting and feasting
mainly well ; she is always at one full table or another.
She has given it out in some places that she is a goddess,
and therefore some do worship her. She has her time,
and open places of cheating ; and she will say and avow
it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She
promiseth to dwell with children's children, if they will
but love and make much of her. She will cast out
of her purse gold like dust in some places and to some
persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of,
and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of
commending her commodities, and she loves them most
that think best of her. She will promise to some crowns
and kingdoms if they will but take her advice ; yet many
has she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times
more to hell.

Stand. Oh ! said Standfast, what a mercy it is that I
did resist her ; for whither might she a drawn me !

Great. Whither ? nay, none but God knows whither.
But in general, to be sure, she would a drawn thee
into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men
in destruction and perdition. 'Twas she that set
Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his
master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord ;
and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly
pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mischief that she
doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects,

311

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

betwixt parents and children, 'twixt neighbour and
neighbour, 'twixt a man and his wife, 'twixt a man and
himself, 'twixt the flesh and the heart. Wherefore,
good Mr Standfast, be as your name is, and when you
have done all, stand.

At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a
mixture of joy and trembling ; but at length they broke
out and sang :

What danger is the pilgrim in J

How many are his> foes !
How many ways there are to sin

No living mortal knows.

Some of the ditch shy are, yet can

Lie tumbling in the mire :
Some, though they shun the frying-pan,

Do leap into the fire.

After this I beheld until they were come into the land
of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here,
because they were weary, they betook themselves a while
to rest. And because this country was common for
pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were
here belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, there-
fore they were licensed to make bold with any of His
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here ; for
the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound
so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet they
received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep
never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that
walked the streets was, More pilgrims are come to town !
And another would answer, saying, And so many went
over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day '
They would cry again, There is now a legion of shining
ones just come to town, by which we know that there are
more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait
for them, and to comfort them after all their sorrow ! Then
the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were
their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes
delighted with celestial visions ! In this land they heard
nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted

312

CHRISTIANA BLESSING HER CHILDREN

4 Then she called for her children, and gave them her
blessing/

[see p. 314.

MESSENGER TO CHRISTIANA

nothing that was offensive to their stomach or mind ; only
when they tasted of the water of the Death bitter to the
river over which they were to go, they flesh, but sweet to
thought that it tasted a little bitterish to
the palate ; but it proved sweeter when 'twas down.

In this place there was a record kept of the names of
them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the
famous acts that they had done. It was here also much
discoursed, how the river to some had Death has its ebb_
had its flowings, and what ebbings it has ings and flowings,
had while others have gone over. It has
been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its
banks for others.

In this place the children of the town would go into the
King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and
bring them to them with much affection. Here also grew
camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinna-
mon, with all its trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes,
with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers
were perfumed while they stayed here ; and with these
were their bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the
river, when the time appointed was come.

Now while they lay here, and waited for the good hour,
there was a noise in the town that there was a post come
from the Celestial City, with matter of .

^ ' . . A messenger or

great importance to one Christiana, the death sent to
wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry
was made for her, and the house was found out where she
was. So the post presented her with a

, .r., r c TT «i His message

letter. The contents whereof was, Hail,
good woman : I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth
for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in His
presence, in clothes of immortality, within this ten days.

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith
a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come
to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was, an
arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her
heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her,
that at the time appointed she must be gone.

313

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that

she was the first of this company that was

"0dIaTheltoThem to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart

that have nothing her guide, and told him how matters were.

to do but to die o »

DO he told her he was heartily glad or the
news, and could a been glad had the post come for
him. Then she bid that he should give advice how
Her speech to her all things should be prepared for her
«uide journey. So he told her, saying, Thus

and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany
you to the river side.

Then she called for her children, and gave them her

blessing, and told them that she yet read

with comfort the mark that was set in
their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there,
and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly,
she bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and com-
manded her sons and her daughters to be ready against the
messenger should come for them.

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and to

her children, she called for Mr Valiant-

To Mr Valiant r i \ • i i • o «

for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you
have in all places showed yourself true-hearted ; be
faithful unto death, and my King will give you a crown
of life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to
my children ; and if at any time you see them faint,
speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons'
wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the

promise upon them will be their end.

To Mr Standfast ^ ^ gaye ^ Stjmdfast a ring

Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of him,
Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is

To old Honest ., . ^,, . , , T . ,

no guile ! Then said he, I wish you
a fair day when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall
be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod.
But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be
gone ; for however the weather is in my journey, I shall
have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest
me, and dry me.

314

PASSING THE RIVER

Then came in that good man, Mr Ready-to-halt, to see
her. So she said to him, Thy travel TO Mr Ready-to-
hither has been with difficulty ; but that halt
will make thy rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready ;
for at an hour when you think not, the messenger may come.

After him came in Mr Despondency and his daughter
Much-afraid; to whom she said, You ToDcspond.
ought with thankfulness for ever to re- encyandhis
member your deliverance from the hands *****
of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect
of that mercy is that you are brought with safety hither.
Be ye watchful, and cast away fear ; be sober, and hope
to the end.

Then she said to Mr Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered
from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that To Feebie-
thou mightest live in the light of the living mind
for ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise
thee to repent of thy aptness to fear and doubt of His
goodness, before He sends for thee : lest thou shouldest,
when He comes, be forced to stand before him for that
fault with blushing.

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone.
So the road was full of people to see her Her Ugt day and
take her journey. But behold, all the manner of del
banks beyond the river were full of horses par
and chariots, which were come down from above to ac-
company her to the city gate. So she came forth, and
entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that
followed her to the river side. The last word she was
heard to say here was, I come, Lord, to be with Thee
and bless Thee ! So her children and friends returned to
their place, for that those that waited for Christiana had
carried her out of their sight. So she went and called,
and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy
that her husband Christian had done before her. At her
departure her children wept. But Mr Great-heart and
Mr Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp
for joy. So all departed to their respective places.

In process of time, there came a post to the town again,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and his business was with Mr Ready-to-halt. So he inquired
Ready-to-halt ^im out> an<^ sa^» I am come to thee in the

summoned name of Him whom thou hast loved and

followed, though upon crutches ; and my message is to tell
thee that He expects thee at His table to sup with Him in
His kingdom, the next day after Easter ; wherefore prepare
thyself for this journey. Then he also gave him a token
that he was a true messenger, saying, I have broken thy
golden bowl and loosed thy silver cord.

After this Mr Ready-to-halt called for his fellow pil-
grims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall
surely visit you also. So he desired Mr Valiant to make
his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to
them that should survive him but his crutches, and his
Promises good wishes, therefore thus he said, These

crutches I bequeath to my son, that shall
tread in my steps, with a hundred warm
wishes that he may prove better than I have done. Then
he thanked Mr Great-heart for his conduct and kindness, and
so addressed himself to his journey. When he came at the
His last words brink of the river he said, Now I shall have
no more need of these crutches, since yonder
are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last words he
was heard to say were, Welcome life ! So he went his way.
After this Mr Feeble-mind had tidings brought him
Feeble-mind sum- that the post sounded his horn at his
moned chamber-door. Then he came in, and

told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that the Master
has need of thee, and that in very little time thou must
behold His face in brightness. And take this as a token
of the truth of my message ; Those that look out at
the windows shall be darkened. Then Mr Feeble-
mind called for his friends, and told them what errand
had been brought unto him, and what token he had
received of the truth of the message. Then he said,
Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose
u should I make a will ? As for my feeble

no makes no will. • j i T «n i 11-1 r i

mind, that I will leave behind me, for that
I shall have no need of in the place whither I go, nor

316

DESPONDENCY

is it worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims ; wherefore,
when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr Valiant, would bury
it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come in
which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest.
His last words were, Hold out, faith and

, 0 , , , . j His last words

patience! DO he went over to the other side.

When days had many of them passed away, Mr
Despondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and
brought this message to him : Trembling Mr Despondency's
man ! these are to summon thee to be ready summons
with thy King by thy next Lord's day, to shout for joy for
thy deliverance from all thy doubtings. And, said the
messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof:
so he gave him the grasshopper to be a burden unto him.

Now Mr Despondency's daughter, whose name was
Much-afraid, said, when she heard what His daughter goes
was done, that she should go with her to°
father. Then Mr Despondency said to his friends, Myself
and my daughter you know what we have been, and how
troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every com-
pany. My will and my daughter's is, that
our desponds and slavish fears be by no
man ever received, from the day of our departure for ever ;
for I know that after my death they will offer themselves
to others. For to be plain with you, they are ghosts the
which we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims,
and could never shake them off after ; and they will walk
about, and seek entertainment of the pilgrims : but for our
sakes, shut ye the doors upon them. When the time was
come for them to depart, they went to the brink of the
river. The last words of Mr Despondency
were, Farewell, night; welcome, day!
His daughter went through the river singing, but none
could understand what she said.

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post
in the town that inquired for Mr Honest. So he came to
the house where he was, and delivered to Mr Honest sum-
his hands these lines: Thou art commanded moned
to be ready against this day sevennight, to present thyself

317

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

before thy Lord, at His Father's house. And for a
token that my message is true, All thy daughters of
music shall be brought low. Then Mr Honest called
for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make
no will. As for my honesty, it shall go

He makes no will . , , . J . Jt c f»

with me; let him that comes after be
told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was
come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now
the river at that time overflowed the banks in some places ;
Good-conscience ^ut ^r Honest in his life-time had spoken
helps Mr Honest to one Good-conscience to meet him there,
the which he also did, and lent him his
hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr
Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he left the world.

After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant-for-truth

Mr Valiant was taken with a summons by the same

summoned post as fae other, and had this for a

token that the summons was true, That his pitcher was

broken at the fountain. When he understood it he

called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said

he, I am going to my Father's ; and though with great

difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of

all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My

sword I give to him that shall succeed me

in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill

to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with

me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles

who now will be my rewarder. When the day that he

must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the

river side, into which as he went he said, Death, where is

thy sting ? And as he went down deeper,

he said? Grave, where is thy victory?

So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him

on the other side.

Then there came forth a summons for Mr Standfast.
Mr standfast This Mr Standfast was he that the rest of

is summoned ^e pilgrims found upon his knees in the

Enchanted Ground. For the post brought it him open in
his hands j the contents whereof were, that he must prepare

STANDFAST'S LAST WORDS

for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that
he should be so far from Him any longer. At this Mr
Standfast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger,
you need not doubt of the truth of my message j for
here is a token of the truth thereof: The wheel is
broken at the cistern. Then he called to He calls for Mr
him Mr Great-heart, who was their guide, Great-heart
and said unto him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be
much in your good company in the days of my pilgrimage,
yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to
me. When I came from home, I left behind
me a wife and five small children ; let me
entreat you at your return (for I know that you will
go and return to your Master's house in hopes that you
may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims)
that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted
with all that hath and shall happen unto HIS errand to his
me. Tell them moreover of my happy famay
arrival to this place, and of the present late blessed
condition that I am in. Tell them also of Christian
and of Christiana his wife, and how she and her children
came after her husband. Tell them also of what a happy
end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little
or nothing to send to my family, unless it be prayers
and tears for them ; of which it will suffice if thou
acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail. When
Mr Standfast had thus set things in order, and the time
being come to haste him away, he also went down to the
river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the
river; wherefore Mr Standfast, when he was about half
way in, stood a while, and talked to his companions that
had waited upon him thither. And he said.

•TM • i i His last words

This river has been a terror to many ; yea,
the thoughts of it also have often frighted me ; but now
methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon that upon
which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the
covenant stood while Israel went over this Jordan.
The waters indeed are to the palate bitter, and to the
stomach cold : yet the thoughts of what 1 am going

319

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side,
doth He as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now
at the end of my journey ; my toilsome days are ended. I am
going now to see that head that was crowned with thorns,
and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly
lived by hearsay and faith : but now I go where I shall live
by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight
myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and
wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in the earth,
there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has
been to me as a civet-box ; yea, sweeter than all perfumes.
His voice to me has been most sweet; and His countenance
I have more desired than they that have most desired the
light of the sun. His word I did use to gather for my
food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held
me, and I have kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my steps
hath He strengthened in His way.

Now while he was thus in discourse his countenance
changed ; his strong men bowed under him : and after he
had said, Take me, for I come unto Thee, he ceased to be
seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the upper region was filled
with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with
singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome
the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in
at the beautiful gate of the city.

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana
brought, with their wives and children, I did not stay
where I was till they were gone over. Also since I came
away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so
would be for the increase of the church in that place where
they were for a time.

Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give
those that desire it an account of what I here am silent
about : meantime I bid my reader

ADIEU.

THE END.

PR 3330 .A2 C66 1904

SMC

Bunyan, John, 1628-1688.

The pilgrim's progress t
from this world to that
AVO-3156 (sk)

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "The pilgrim's progress : from this world to that which is to come, delivered under the similtude of a dream"

See other formats